Day By Day
by AyersIris
Summary: Life doesn't happen all at once, some things happen slowly. When Tommy returns from the Marines after spending six months in custody he starts to rebuild his life, and life is not meant to be lived all alone. Tommy/OC Please R&R it means so much!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

**Chapter 1**

They'd wanted to send him back. To finish his tour of duty. In the end it was his dislocated shoulder that saved him, the military tribunal deciding that by the time he was fit for service again he would have served his whole sentence behind bars, and public opinion would not allow a war hero- however unconventional, to go to jail. In the end Tommy spent six months on a military base running drills while his shoulder healed before being honorably discharged from the army with the sounds of Sparta still ringing in his ears.

**January 14****th**

Rain lashed down, beating against the windscreen of the second-hand Ford as Tommy maneuvered it one handed around the last bend before pulling into his brother's driveway. Turning off the engine he sat for a few moments and breathed deeply. It wouldn't be the first time he'd spoken to Brendan since his tap-out in Sparta but it was close.

The brothers had shared a moment together in the hospital after Tommy's shoulder was set, Brendan couldn't stop apologizing until Tommy could have hit him again out of frustration.

_Brendan, hey Brendan stop._ He remembered trying to make himself heard over his brother's distress

_Hey, Brendan, it's okay. I'm okay. _ Tommy rested his good hand on Brendan's arm, just over a fresh bruise in the shape of his own fist. Guilt, fed on the remnants of his anger gnawed at his gut.

_It's not okay Tommy- Its really not. Its not. I'm so sorry. Its …. the bank was going to take our house and… what was I going to tell the girls?_ Brendan shook his head sadly.

_Girls? _Asked Tommy, roughly, the pain medication was starting to make his head spin.

_Yeah, _smiled Brendan, Tommy remembered how his brother's face suddenly lit up at the mention of his daughters. _Yeah, I told you last night, Emily and Rosie? They're eight and six. I'd like you to meet them… _Tommy gave him a skeptical look. _At some point._

After that there hadn't been much time to talk. Two military policemen had taken Tommy into custody and straight from hospital to a military base where he was put on trial. Brendan phoned him when he was allowed to and Tommy had even spoken to his nieces on the phone; their tiny pixie voices barely audible over the crackling of static.

He pulled himself together and got out of the car. He only had one duffle bag of clothes, the rest was still at his father's house not that there was much else. He shouldered the bag on his good side and mounted the steps to the front door. He stood there for a few moments before knocking,

The door opened a few inches seemingly of its own accord; it took a while for Tommy to realize that the person standing on the other side was just significantly smaller than he was. He looked down and saw a small girl with Brendan's dark eyes and two blonde pigtails, staring up at him in amazement.

"Hi" he said, lamely.

"Who are you? I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."

Tommy smiled slightly "I'm your uncle, Tommy. We've spoken before, on the phone. Is your dad here?"

"Yeah…" then she turned and called into the house behind her "Daaadyy Daaadyy! Its Uncle Tomyyyyy!"

Moments later, Brendan appeared and scooped the little girl up into his arms before removing the safety chain from the door and puling Tommy into a fierce one-armed hug. Tommy stiffened for a moment at his touch, unused to any kind of affection but after a moment he reciprocated. As they broke apart he saw that Brendan's eyes were very bright.

"Come on in" said Brendan, roughly.

The house had obviously seen some of the money that Brendan had won from Sparta, everything was freshly painted, and there were nice dark floorboards in the hall. Tommy, feeling uncomfortable, wondered if he should have come at all.

"So," said Brendan, setting the girl down as he led Tommy into the kitchen, "How long have you been out?"

"Got out today." Tommy replied, ducking his head down to avoid looking his brother in the eyes. It felt wrong to admit, even now that he had nowhere else to go.

"Well, how about we make up the guest bed later. Do you want something to eat? Or-" Brendan was about to offer him coffee when Tommy cut him off.

"Is it alright? That I'm here? I mean, it's been a long time, and last time we saw each other it didn't really go so great. If you want me to leave… I mean, I've got other places I can go…"

Brendan smiled sadly but not, he was relieved to see, with pity. "Come on, I'll get the sheets. And we can introduce you properly to the girls."

"Okay." The relief was almost palpable in the air.

They were in the utility room and Brendan was up on a stepladder looking for the sheets to the spare bed before they spoke again.

"Where's Tess?" asked Tommy.

"In Portland, her sister's just had a baby wouldn't you believe it…." Brendan held up a sheet and, deeming it to be the right one, threw it down to Tommy who awkwardly caught it,

"Alright… she was there, at Sparta wasn't she?"

"Yeah, couldn't convince her to come at first but, she came around in the end- she always hated watching the fights."

"Can't think that she'll be too pleased to see me then" remarked Tommy, a slight smile in his voice.

"That's different… anyway, I beat you." Brendan got off the stepladder and took the sheets from Tommy, ushering him into the hall.

"So you did…. So you did. "

Sitting on the couch and watching SpongeBob on TV, the two little girls were waiting for them as Tommy and Brendan returned from the utility room. Two pairs of big brown eyes followed Tommy's every movement.

"Emily, Rosie, come say hello." Encouraged Brendan. Cautiously both girls slid off the couch and approached. Tommy crouched down so that he wouldn't tower over them and held out a hand for them to shake. The older one took it, smiling shyly. "I'm Emily" she said in the tiny pixie voice that Tommy remembered from the phone calls.

"And you're eight years old right?" asked Tommy. Wondering what the hell else he was supposed to say.

"I'm gonna be nine in two weeks." She replied proudly.

"And then you'll be really grown up?"

"Yes, absolutely."

"And what about you sweetie?" he asked, turning to Rosie who was hiding slightly behind her sister.

"I'm Rosie, I'm six… you're really big and scary…" she trailed of in a whisper.

"I'm not that big Rosie, you're just very small" The little girls smiled, seeming to like this explanation.

"Come on girls, its almost bed time." Said Brendan, much to Tommy's relief.

The four of them trooped into the kitchen where Tommy watched his brother make warm milk for both the girls before sending them upstairs with the promise of a story later.

"How's the shoulder?" was the first question Brendan asked upon his return from settling the girls.

"S'ok" replied Tommy, not wanting Brendan to know just how badly it was hurting him.

"I saw you favoring it today, still hurts doesn't it."

"It's fine Brendan. Leave it." He ducked his head further, studying his fingernails.

"It's not fine Tommy, I think you need to get it checked out."

"Need a job first."

"Oh, right, no army insurance…. I could-" Tommy cut him off.

"No Brendan, you've done enough… I know about the money you sent to Pilar and her kids."

"Oh, right…" Brendan seemed at a loss for words. He wiped down the bench and put some dishes in the sink. "So you entered Sparta for them?"

Tommy didn't answer for a long moment, he fished a toothpick out of his pocket and rolled it between his full lips. "Yes and no… the money was for them, the fight was for me."

"Right. So it's okay then- that I sent them the money?"

Tommy didn't answer, just stared at his hands. "I wish I'd been the one to do it. I owe Manny my life." His voice was rougher than before and Brendan saw his shoulders tense slightly.

Brendan crossed the room in a few long strides and put his arm around Tommy, pulling him into an awkward sideways hug. For a few seconds Tommy froze at the touch before patting Brendan on the back in return.

For a moment Brendan felt that he was properly fulfilling his big brother duties, that even after the terrible events of their childhood, theirs could still be a relationship worth salvaging, that not all their bridges had been burned. He smiled down at Tommy who was examining his fingernails with increased diligence.

"Ready to go to bed?" Brendan asked him.

"Yeah," Tommy's voice had returned to normal and he gave Brendan a rare half-smile.

**January 15****th**

It was at about three in the morning that Brendan woke, his ears pricked. He'd heard a strange noise coming from downstairs. As he relaxed almost into sleep again he heard the noise a second time. A strangled cry of fear.

Tommy.

Brendan was out of bed in seconds, he checked on the girls as he passed their room down the hall but they were both still sleeping peacefully.

Brendan reached the guestroom downstairs and listened for a moment, hoping that maybe the nightmare had passed but from the other side of the door came a sob and then another, a low rasping sound.

Brendan quietly pushed open the door and, without thinking at all, he grabbed Tommy by both shoulders and shook him awake.

Tommy's immediate yell of agony told his brother all he needed to know about the state of his shoulder. He was drenched in a cold sheen of sweat, dark hair sticking to his forehead. His eyes, wild and unseeing, focused slowly on Brendan as his breathing returned to normal. Up close, Brendan could see that his face was streaked with tears.

"What was that for?" Tommy asked in an outraged whisper, cradling his left shoulder.

"Sorry, I'm really sorry. You were having a nightmare…" Tommy's eyes clouded.

"I'm fine," He said in a monotone, sitting up.

"The hell you are Tommy." Brendan whispered, reaching out he scrubbed some of the tear tracks from his brother's face. Tommy flinched and then touched his cheek, surprised to find it wet with tears.

"I was crying?" he asked.

"Looks like…." Smiled Brendan ruefully through the dark.

"Sorry,"

"Don't be. Don't be Tommy."

They sat in the dark in silence for a moment whilst Tommy's breathing rate slowly returned to normal.

"Go back to sleep Brendan" he said, quietly. "I'm fine."

"Not a chance, come on." He dragged Tommy out of bed and threw him a T-shirt, which he caught one handed. Tommy put it on, somewhat awkwardly; his shoulder was obviously not functioning well at all. Brendan felt guilt twist in his gut.

He led Tommy into the kitchen and flicked on the lights.

"Go on, sit yourself down." Brendan started rummaging through the fist aid-kit he kept under the sink. Tommy sat, staring into space, shivering slightly in the cool air as the cold sweat evaporated off his body. Without his big sweater on, Brendan could see that he'd lost a lot of weight since Sparta maybe ten or even twenty pounds of muscle had simply wasted away. With the dark circles under his eyes and a days worth of stubble on his cheeks, Tommy looked quite ill.

"Here" Brendan thrust a tube of "Deep Heat" warming gel into his hands. Tommy stared at it for a moment as though unsure what it was for. "Tommy." Brendan clicked his fingers in front of his eyes trying to get a reaction from him. He sat up as though someone had electrocuted him.

"Yeah?"

"The gel, put it on your shoulder. I'm coming with you to get it checked out tomorrow."

"Told you I can't afford it."

"Then your going to be paying me back because we're going to the clinic tomorrow."

"God. _Okay_. You sound like mom."

Brendan grinned "I'm going to go right ahead and take that as a compliment."

Tommy nodded absently, applying the gel clumsily.

They sat in silence while Tommy rubbed it in not wincing although Brendan could tell it was still hurting him.

"D'you want to talk about it?" he asked.

"Not really." Tommy replied and replaced the cap on the bottle.

"D'you want me to make up the couch for you?"

"I'm not twelve years old any more Brendan," muttered Tommy but he did smile ever so slightly. When they were young Tommy used to ask Brendan to swap beds with him every time he had a nightmare thinking that his bed was the cause of the nighttime distress. The thought of a twelve-year-old Tommy, already a state wrestling champion but tiny in comparison to the seventeen-year-old Brendan, shaking him awake night after night shivering, panicking but trying to be brave still haunted Brendan. The guilt he felt in his abandonment stirring anew.

"I know you're not Tommy. I know." Tommy smiled slightly at him and seemed on the brink of saying something. Then his eyes clouded over and he dropped his head to stare at his hands again.

"What's up?" Brendan asked, nipping into the spare bedroom to get Tommy's duvet and pillows to put on the couch. Tommy watched him impassively for a moment before hopping off his stool to help him.

"I was dreaming about Iraq. The night Manny died. You kinda remind me of him."

"I do?"

"Yeah… or maybe he reminded me of you… I dunno. He loved his wife, kids, was calling out for them when he died."

Brendan didn't really have anything to say to that so he spread the duvet on the couch having brushed aside Tommy's offer of help and helped him to get settled in.

"Don't worry if the girls come down, they like to watch SpongeBob before school but I'll tell them to be quiet. Okay?"

"Yeah- Brendan-"

"What?"

"Thank you."

A/N: Thanks for reading please review xx


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing (except my oc!)

**Chapter 2**

**January 15th**

Katrina heard the door close and flopped, exhausted onto her bed. The "Great Move" was finally over and the last moving man out of her apartment taking his cigarettes with him. It was a shame; she could have done with a cigarette. The floor all around the bed was littered with boxes, which right now she could honestly not be bothered to unpack.

"Man up" she said to herself "The sooner you start the sooner you finish." And with that _rousing _thought she picked up her Stanley knife and attacked the fist box, almost cutting her hand open in the process.

"Great" she said aloud. "Books." The next few boxes didn't yield many better results, kitchen utensils, dried food and flour, shoes, bedding. After an hour of patient unpacking, one fight with a flat pack dresser and she was just about done. All that remained was to get her clothes together for the next day, take a shower (once she figured how to get the hot water working) and call her best friend Casey.

_You really made it!_ Thought Katrina doing a little jig around her kitchen in excitement and almost spilling her fresh cup of tea down her front. Tomorrow was her fist day at work as a soloist with the Pittsburgh Ballet. Junior soloist she reminded herself, then grinned involuntarily stopping incase someone looked through the window and thought she was a lunatic. She then remembered that she'd just been dancing around in front of the fridge so the whole lunatic thing was already in the bag.

Katrina had finally made it out of the _corps de ballet_ position at the Joffrey Ballet Company this year owing to a stroke of luck, in truth, luck for her and misfortune for the last Pittsburgh ballet junior soloist who'd been hit by a car. Luckily for the soloist, she'd only broken her leg in one place but was still out of the company for at least two seasons.

Luckily for Katrina, instead of promoting one of their own dancers to the coveted spot of junior soloist the Pittsburgh Ballet had advertised for an open audition. Seeing the advertisement online Katrina hopped on the first Greyhound bus she could find from Chicago and auditioned.

She hadn't expected or even dared to hope to get the job, she didn't even let herself think about it, she was too young, too inexperienced, she wasn't even a soloist at the Joffrey. She didn't hope or pray for a letter of acceptance, just filed the audition away in her mind under "Learning Experience". Then two months ago, in the middle of her lunch break as they were rehearsing for that night's performance of _The Nutcracker_ she got a call on her cell phone from an unknown number.

Fifteen minutes later she'd handed in her notice for the end of the season and was searching for affordable flats in Pittsburgh.

Her friends made her promise to call as soon as she'd arrived and settled in. It was hard to leave them, the girls she'd grown up with whilst attending the Joffrey Ballet School and later working with them in the company, but Katrina was excited to be striking out on her own.

The sun was starting the lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the city. From her fifth floor apartment Katrina could see a pretty good view across the center of Pittsburgh. She wondered if she could see the ballet center from here. The apartment, though having a good view, also had a cheap monthly rent owing mainly to its miniscule size. Made up only of two rooms; a bathroom and a living room with kitchen area and an open mezzanine level for the bedroom, which was really just a platform near the ceiling with a bed on it. The space under the stairs cleverly concealed clothes storage and a boiler. When she was running her bath Katrina had noticed a strange rattling coming from the boiler and promptly moved her best clothes out of the cupboard and into her dresser incase of a leak.

Suddenly she jumped up and ran up to her bedroom. Grabbing her cell phone she started going through her contacts looking for her friend Casey before realizing that she was on speed dial. She rang and heard Casey's jokey ringer ID of the "Spice Girls" play for five minutes, before giving up and vowing to call later.

Typical of Casey to not pick up when she'd made Katrina swear to call on pain of death. Her bath, she decided, must be full by now. Going down stairs she turned off the water and got out her shampoo, it was a hair washing night.

Katrina turned for a moment and gave herself a good look in the mirror over the sink. Dark brown eyes stared back at her from a tanned and freckled face. Her thick brown hair fell, slightly greasy from the day's efforts, just to the points of her shoulder blades. It was really the only length she could have it anyway, too long and it wouldn't go into a bun, too short and she needed a whole can of hairspray to control the fly-aways. She ran a hand threw it and immediately regretted it; her hair _really_ needed a wash.

A/N Thanks so much for reading! Please R&R XXX


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I own nothing

**Chapter 3**

January 15th

The next day Tommy woke unusually late. Sunlight was pouring through the windows at the front of the house as he untangled himself from the depths of the couch and stood, clicking his back and rolling his shoulders. The left one was very sore and he winced slightly as he moved it. The girls and Brendan had obviously already gone to school and the house was silent. Tommy checked his watch, twelve thirty. _Shit._

He didn't really have any plans for the day or a clear idea about where he wanted to go next. All his thoughts after his discharge from the Marines were about escaping and getting as far away from Camp Georgeas possible in a single drive. He wasn't sure what made him think of Brendan as his first port of call. At this point, he thought bitterly, Brendan was his only port of call, unless you counted Pilar or his dad. It pained him to think how many friends he'd lost on the day Manny died, everyone close to him, the people he could have counted on to stay with on the day of his discharge. He hadn't been to a single one of their funerals, being on the run at the time; traveling slowly back from Iraq, then laying low and erasing any trace of Thomas Conlan's identity. Occasionally in the first few weeks he would see their pictures on the news, videos of grieving parents and wives, the convoy of coffins being repatriated. He'd tried not to watch, seen too much already.

Tommy gloomily poured himself a glass of water. He looked over to his duffle bag on the floor. There were several bottles of pills inside, prescribed to him by the army doctor for the recurring nightmares and other symptoms of what he was now being told was "post traumatic stress disorder". There was also pain medication for his shoulder, which, as Brendan had guessed, hadn't set well after Sparta. The drills his sergeant had set him at the camp hadn't helped much either. Tommy hadn't minded much at the time; he was no stranger to pain or exhaustion and pushing his body past its limits had helped to block out some of the sharper pain.

Seeing his father relapse after over one thousand days of sobriety when he, Tommy was to blame, the pain of seeing Brendan again, being torn so completely between hating the man and missing him. And of course, the shame of failure, loosing Sparta to Brendan; not being able to win for the family who'd supported him, cared for him and taken him in.

Tommy sighed, glancing at the duffle bag again before crossing the room and pulling out the orange pill bottles. The pills winked at him in the light. Tempting. But, he'd already been down that road, relying on sleeping pills and anti-depressants to get him through the day before he started training for Sparta had brought him low. He loathed addiction and despised the addicted, and by extension, himself. Opening all the bottles he emptied each one down the sink and then quickly ran the garbage disposal. His shoulder throbbed again and he looked down, there was still one painkiller left, stuck to the side of the bottle gritting his teeth he put it down the sink too. He sighed and rested his head in his hands tired all over again.

The rest of the day was spent surfing daytime TV channels and walking. Tommy had discovered at Camp George that walking was pretty much the only activity that didn't jolt his shoulder and so did it as much of it as he could. The cold January air felt good against his face, clearing his head at last. He didn't wear his coat or even a sweater as the cold also numbed his shoulder. When it got to three thirty he turned back, heading for Brendan's house and wondering when he would be home.

As it turned out Brendan beat him back. As Tommy turned into the _cul de sac_ he saw Brendan's car in the driveway. The TV was tuned on to the news with the sound turned down; Rosie and Emily were sitting in the kitchen at the breakfast island with cups of juice.

"Hey, I wondered where you were." Said Brendan, turning to smile at him. Tommy chuckled to see that he was wearing bright yellow marigold gloves and doing the washing up. Toughest guy in the world, yeah right.

"Went for a walk" he said, "Could only stand so much daytime TV."

"Dr. Phil not doing it for you?"

"Not so much." Tommy smiled. Rosie slammed down her juice cup.

"Daddy! How come uncle Tommy can watch TV in the day and we can't? _And _he can watch Dr. Phil? I love that show!" The look of outrage on the eight year old's face had both men in stiches.

"Well honey" said Brendan between chuckles, "Tommy is a grown up so I can't tell him how much TV to watch, and, even though you might like Dr. Phil its just a little too grown up for right now."

"Arg." Grumped Rosie, pouring herself more juice, "I hate being little. Just you wait, one day me and Rosie will boss _you guys_ around."

"Rosie and _I_" corrected Brendan, ruffling her hair and having his hand swatted immediately. Tommy took a glass from the cupboard and helped himself to some juice sitting opposite the girls at the counter.

"So, how was school?" he asked.

"Totally lame." Answered Rosie. "I got cast as a carrot in the school pageant."

"A carrot?" Tommy's eyebrows shot towards his hairline

"Its harvest themed"

"Right… what's a pageant anyway?" he asked.

Rosie sighed as though he'd asked how the Internet worked. "You dress up as a harvest character and then you say some lines about how you're "healthy" or "historical" or something. Lame." She had a lot of attitude for an eight year old thought Tommy, must come her father's side.

"And you're a healthy harvest vegetable?"

"Absolutely, not like Emily. She's a turnip. That's _historical_." Historical was obviously her new word for the day and she still had some trouble pronouncing it.

"So what's historical about a turnip Emily?" Tommy asked the shy six year old.

"Ummm… I think they were invented by the Indians." Rosie nudged her.

"_Native Americans_!" she stage whispered.

"Native American Indians, yeah… they invented them and then gave them to the pilgrims for Thanksgiving." Emily said with conviction.

"Interesting, what else did the Native Americans invent?"

"Turkeys?" asked Emily.

"Don't be silly! God invented turkeys!" chided Rosie. Tommy couldn't stifle a snort of laughter.

"What?" Asked both girls together. But Tommy just smiled and shook his head.

"Nothing, I'm just gonna go help your dad wash up." Standing, he took his cup over to the sink, noticing as he did so that he'd carelessly left all the empty pill bottles on the sideboard that morning.

"They're cute." he said to Brendan who nodded.

"You're good with them, when did that happen?"

"I dunno, spent a lot of time with Pilar and Manny's kids when… y'know."

"Yeah, well, they like you. Rosie likes adults who don't treat her like a baby."

"She's got a bit of an attitude on 'er."

"Oh yeah, I think that comes from Tess."

"Nope, that's definitely all you. Anyway-" he picked up a napkin and started drying dishes "I was thinking, I like it here but it's your house and I can't crash here forever-"

"You know you can stay as long as you like, really its fine."

"No, Brendan, it's a small house and you need your guest room, I was _going _to say that since I got my severance pay I could rent an apparent somewhere 'round here?"

"Or you could stay here and save your money…?" Tommy raised an eyebrow and Brendan took that as a sign to drop it "I'm just sayin'." Tommy smiled, breaking the tension.

"Do you actually know of any rental places around here?"

"Nope, I was hoping you could help out?"

"Do I look like I'm house hunting?" Brendan whipped the cream napkin out of Tommy's hands before he ruined it completely and replaced it with a tea-towel

"Alright, maybe not. "

"You need to think about where is going to be affordable and convenient, do you know what kind of job you're thinking about applying for?"

"Fighting." Tommy replied firmly.

"Okay, do you know what job you're thinking about in the months leading up to when your shoulder is remotely healed enough for you to fight again?"

Tommy sighed, "No."

"Hmm, I'll ask Frank, his gym got put on the map after Sparta and from what he's been telling me, maybe he could do with someone to work at the gym?"

"You'd talk to him for me?"

"I don't think he'll need too much convincing, as long as he gets to train you."

"Y'think?"

"I know. Trust me, he's a good guy and anyway, not I'm out of the game you might just be the best middle weight on the planet." Brendan smiled but Tommy was studying his shoes.

"I don't know about that any more, lost a lot of form being at Camp George… about ten pounds of muscle."

"Yeah, I saw that, were you thinking of moving down a weight class?"

"Nah, I just couldn't eat. Shoulder was hurting; my pride was hurting, I dunno, being at the Camp was like moving backwards. Just didn't care much about keeping the muscle on at the time."

Brendan patted him on his good shoulder. "I'll call Frank tonight."

"Thanks…"

**January 16th **

As today was Saturday everyone in the house could have a sleep in, all the adults anyway. Tommy woke at eight to find the TV on and the girls sitting by the couch, watching SpongeBob and eating cereal. There was cereal spilt all over the counter and Tommy swept it up before heading into the bathroom for a shower and shave. He still had the jar-head haircut the marines had given him at Camp George, he ran his hands over his scalp for a moment, feeling the scar at the back where he'd caught a piece of flying shrapnel years ago. Rubbing his eyes, he tried to get rid of the dark circles that seemed to have become a permanent fixture. After his shower he looked at himself in the mirror for a moment. His tattoos were stretched blackly over a chest that was several inches smaller than it had been six months ago. His ribs stuck out when he breathed, how much work would it take to get back to fighting weight he wondered, maybe he really should go down a weight class.

When he emerged fully dressed into the kitchen he came across Brendan, still in sweats, making some toast. He had his laptop open on the counter and waved Tommy over to show him something.

"How about this one?" he asked, showing him an apartment listing. Tommy scrolled down to take a proper look. It certainly was affordable, and close enough to Frank's gym that he wouldn't have to drive.

"It looks really good Brendan, where'd you find this?" he asked.

"Oh y'know just some casual googling."

"We'll have to see what Frank thinks of me working at the gym first."

"Yeah, about that, I called him." Tommy's eyebrows shot up.

"That was fast."

"Yep. Anyway, he said he'd have time to talk today at about twelve."

"Twelve… okay cool, thanks Bren…." Tommy scratched the back of his neck in the way that told Brendan instantly that he was nervous.

"You worried?"

"Yeah… It's gonna take some _work_ to get me back to middle weight."

"It'll happen Tommy, I know you. It'll happen."

Tommy grunted noncommittally.

Because of Tommy's shoulder, which Brendan was convinced needed to be strapped again, Brendan ended up driving the pair of them the half-hour to Frank's gym on the outskirts of Pittsburgh. The brothers didn't talk much in the car; Tommy, clamming up with nerves turned the radio up loud and looked out the window the whole way. Brendan knew better than to press him into talking, and concentrated on the radio announcer's soothing voice.

Pulling into the street and but not seeing any parking spaces, Brendan turned to Tommy.

"Go in now or you'll be late. I'll be right behind you."

Tommy nodded in silent agreement and hopped out of the car, heading for the gym.

Stopping for a moment outside the gym, Tommy noticed the size of the place. It was certainly a contrast to Colt Boyd's gym where he had trained for Sparta. He made a mental note to visit Colt when he next went into downtown Pittsburgh, the man had been good to him and they'd spoken occasionally when he was finishing his service up north.

Frank Campana's gym was if anything larger on the inside; an open-plan warehouse which had been converted for the purpose. Tommy noted how it had been carefully divided into different sections; one for professional training and one for casual. There were practice rings were set on raised platforms in the center of the warehouse, two already occupied. Tommy recognized one of the fighters as "Midnight" who he'd seen Brendan knock out in Sparta.

Tommy walked swiftly down the isle between ranks of men doing drills and weights and knocked on the door of Frank's office. He kept his head down, trying not to be recognized, he'd had a few people ask for his autograph at Sparta and in the days following it and had found it dreadfully embarrassing.

"Come on in!" Called a voice from inside the office. Tommy pushed the door open and entered.

"Hey Tommy" said Frank, standing and extending a hand for him to shake. Tommy did so and then sat down when invited, he instantly regretted this, feeling the urge to fidget but suppressing it.

"So," Frank, smiling broadly.

"Nice place you got here." Interjected Tommy, hoping to get proceedings off on the right foot.

"Thanks" said Frank, genuinely pleased. "So Brendan said you were looking to get back in the cage."

"That's the plan, yeah."

Frank regarded Tommy for a moment, frowning. "But you need a job too?" Tommy nodded; Brendan seemed to have filled him in on the situation. "Cool. Okay. Were going to need to talk about terms, and some specifics- hours and stuff."

Tommy's eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline. "Okay? Just like that?"

"Uh, yeah. You're one of the best MMA fighters in the world at last count as well as my best friend's brother, so yeah, I'll train you." Frank chuckled slightly. "You do want the job don't you?"

"Yeah, yeah I do."

"That's alright then. Although-" Frank regarded him again, appraisingly. "How much weight have you lost since Sparta?" he asked.

"About 20 pounds I think."

"Shit" Frank's brown eyes widened in surprise. "How the hell did that happen? Did the Marines have you running marathons or something?"

Tommy smiled ruefully "Not quite, just wasn't eating like I used to, wasn't training so…"

"Well that's got to stop, how's the shoulder by the way?"

Tommy frowned, "Not too good, Brenan recons it needs to be set again but I told him he's fussin'."

"Here" Frank jumped up and motioned for Tommy to come around the desk, "Lets see it." He tested Tommy's range of motion, had him do a bit of shadow boxing against his hands and noticed the Marine's jaw clench with pain after the third jab.

"He's right you know, it does needs to be re-set. When are you getting it done?"

"I dunno, soon." Frank looked stern "Okay _very_ soon."

"Good, were gonna need you around back to your best to beat the hell out of "Midnight" before his head gets too big for his shoulders." Frank his eyes, pointing to Midnight sparring out of the office window. Tommy's eyes lit up with interest at the promise of a fight.

"Yeah? How come he's here anyway? I thought he trained in Chicago?"

"Well, after Brendan took him out of Sparta in the first round he came here, see if he couldn't learn a bit from the Beethoven." Frank grinned. Just then the door opened and in came Brendan, red faced from the cold.

"Hey Frank, how's it going?" he asked clapping him on the back.

"Its good, just found me a new fighter."

"Who?" asked Brendan, looking about as though someone might appear from the woodworks, Tommy chuckled softly and Brendan caught on. "Oh. Right. Good one Franko." He teased in return.

Frank returned behind his desk to print out a copy of his employee contract. Tommy took it and read it over for a moment whilst Frank showed Brendan a few of his newest additions to the "hall of fame".

Tommy looked over the contract; it gave Frank a manager's fee taken out of the winnings and a percentage of any endorsement deals that Tommy might accrue over the course of his fighting for the gym. _Fair enough_ thought Tommy, he took up a pen from Frank's desk and signed it.

A/N please review!


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

**Chapter 4**

January 17th

The number 81B bus pulled up at a busy stop on Liberty Avenue and Katrina had to fight to get off before it pulled away again. She weaved skillfully through the crowd of people pushing in the other direction, narrowly avoiding pushchairs and umbrellas. It was raining heavily and she sprinted the last hundred meters to the entrance of the ballet center. It was a large red-brick building, resplendent with royal blue "Ballet Pittsburgh" flags which now hung limply in the rain. Checking the address one last time, she pushed open the double doors and entered.

Inside the cool, quiet hall, a blonde receptionist, lit cigarette glowing in her manicured fingers asked for identification. Katrina pulled out her driver's license and showed it to the receptionist who stubbed out her cigarette and checked the license under the light, lipsticked lips pursing.

"Seems fine, go on in to the office on the left." She said, pointing.

"Thanks, I'm Katrina by the way-" she tried to make a good first impression. The lips pursed again, worse than before, _she's going to get wrinkles if she carries on like that _thought Katrina.

"I'm Josie Lawrence." She said unsmilingly

"Nice to meet you."

Silence was the stern reply so Katrina smiled in what she dearly hopped was a winning way and sped past the desk into the corridor.

Katrina found the office on the left and knocked tentatively.

"Come in!" came an accented voice from inside.

Katrina crept in and almost freezing on the spot at the sight of the man standing by the window. Knowing instantly who he was, she nearly leapt out of her skin.

The man was Dorian Toulouse the infamous director of the famed Paris Opera Ballet. Tall, and broad across the shoulders like a rower with a shock of pewter grey hair and proudly Roman features so still and statue like, he resembled a bronzed Zeus. The man was reputed to be one of the greatest womanizers in the dance world, its _enfant terrible_ and its most beloved star. Only having seen him in photographs Katrina was struck dumb by his presence and rooted to the spot.

_What the hell is he doing in Pittsburgh_? Wondering in a panic, Katrina blushed to the sodden roots of her hair.

The man sitting behind the desk coughed and Katrina realized she'd been staring rudely. She felt the heat rise further in her cheeks. The man behind the desk was Daniel Klein director of the Pittsburgh Ballet and her new boss.

He was very like Dorian Toulouse, the same air of aristocracy and intensity; he had a harshly beautiful face, slightly weathered with age but with sharp, dark eyes and hair untouched by grey. At the moment those sharp eyes were turned on Katrina who blushed yet harder, feeling her ears turning red.

"Hello, I'm Katrina Christiansen, the new junior soloist?" she ventured at last.

"Yes. We've met before. When I gave you the job."

"Yes" If she blushed anymore she would spontaneously combust. Thankfully Daniel smiled at her, the edges of his eyes crinkling slightly, he was what her friend Casey would have called a "silver fox".

"So, today is your fist day, nervous?" Katrina could only nod dumbly. Dorian Toulouse turned towards her, leaning on the edge the desk; Katrina felt the scrutiny of his gaze.

"Well," Daniel Klein lent forward eyes fixed on her, "You're not dancing for your school anymore and now you're out of the _corps_ you'll have more responsibility, I really hope to see you _develop_ as a dancer while you are here." He leant back in his chair, regarding her closely, "You understand that the position of junior soloist isn't a permanent one; so this is your chance to _sink or swim_ as they say."

"Yes of course."

"Good."

"You see Daniel," said Dorian in a husky, languid baritone, "This is what I need. Fresh talent, fresh _young_ talent." Katrina found she could blush harder after all.

"You're right of course Dorian, but I found her first so hands off." Daniel laughed, throwing his head back, very white teeth flashing.

"You're free to go Miss Christiansen, Dorian and I have more business to discus." She smiled shyly at both men and left, feeling like a schoolgirl who's just seen _Justin Beiber_ at the corner shop.

The studio was stating to fill by the time Katrina had negotiated the locker rooms and changed into her dance clothes, she didn't know what kind of dress code they had in Pittsburgh so she'd kept it smart in a dark blue leotard, light tights and a pink wraparound cardigan. At the Jeoffrey she and the other girls had regularly worn shorts and crop-tops to dance in but she wasn't quite ready to be wearing her Michal Jackson tribute t-shirt to class just yet.

The other dancers all looked as she entered the studio but none of them approached her and she saw a lot of whispering going on behind hands. _Typical _she thought and tried to keep her chin high, not to be intimidated. At the barre she found herself in front of a blonde ballerina wearing an electric blue shrug, turning around, she introduced herself.

"Hey, I'm Katrina, the new girl." She stuck out her hand.

"I'm Lauren Meyers. Soloist." The other girl smiled thinly, not taking Katrina's hand, thankfully the sudden slamming of the studio door. In walked an older woman with ash-white hair and shocking blood-red lipstick, which put Katrina in mind of a geriatric Snow White. It was the same lady who had been present in the auditions along with the director, Katrina recognized her but did not remember her name. A hush fell across the whole room as the lady all but floated to the front and turned to face the dancers.

Clapping her hands for attention, she spoke in ringing tones. "Okay class, plies, _first_ variation. Ready Jack?" she turned to the pianist who hurriedly started to play. Katrina copied the dancer in front, trying to fit the familiar motions to a new routine.

_Forward, out, up, down, point your feet, turn them out!_ She thought to herself. They continued variation after variation, the lady walking up and down the aisles of dancers correcting and encouraging. As she approached them, Katrina tightened her grip on the barre out of nerves.

"Relax dear," said the lady, pushing Katrina's shoulders slightly further back, "Its only your first day." Katrina smiled nervously at her and she passed on to correct the man in front's posture.

Three hours later and they broke for lunch, not knowing anyone Katrina consigned herself to a lonely sandwich until a small dancer with shocking red hair jogged up to catch her before she slipped out of the locker room.

"Hey" she said, beaming brightly, "I'm Sonja, you're the new soloist, Katrina, right?" the red-headed girl extended a freckled hand.

"Yeah," Katrina replied, shaking it.

"Cool, wow, you must be so excited about your first day, right?"

"More like nervous really, it's a pretty intense class." Both girls started walking out towards the reception.

"_Madame_ _B_ is pretty strict, keeps us on our toes. No pun intended." Sonja giggled. "Anyway, come have lunch with us, get to know everyone?"

"Us?" Katrina questioned.

"Yes, look-" Sonja pointed to three dancers standing in the street the other side of the glass studio doors, waving and motioning for them to hurry up.

"I'd love to." Katrina smiled, relieved to have found someone so friendly.

"Cool, now come and meet everyone." Sonja swished her bright red hair and all but skipped out into the street, flinging the door open and earning herself a glare from the tight-lipped receptionist. Katrina laughed and followed maybe Pittsburgh wasn't so uptight after all.

On the way to what Katrina was assured was the cheapest café all of Pittsburgh the other dancers made their introductions. Mark, a tall, African man with a wicked sense of humor and flashing, dark eyes was the lead male soloist. Danni, the youngest of the group was in the _corps _having just graduated from Princeton Ballet School, she had a soft lilting voice, a slight lisp, and long blonde hair held back with an Alice-band. Danni knew Sonja from school and they were old friends. Vlad, a Russian soloist, son of defected parents was an inordinately cheerful skinhead who bounded along talking at a million miles an hour. He and Sonja were dating, to the stern disapproval of both sets of parents. Unusually for a ballet dancer, Vlad had several tattoos, one of the Moscow skyline and the Kremlin, which he lifted his shirt up to show everybody.

"I just got it finished a few weeks ago" he said, explaining, "Look, here's where my parents used to live" her pointed to an outline map of Russia on his ribs, "and here's Putin!" he pointed again to a little caricature devil in a suit on his left side.

Laughing, Sonja kissed him on the cheek "Put your abs away babe it's a girlfriend's privilege to see that sort of thing you know." They were about to kiss again when Mark forcibly dragged Vlad away by the ear. Katrina looked at him alarmed. "Don't worry," said Danni "If they start kissing it'll be the end of break before we get to the café." She took a slightly put out looking Sonja by the arm and frog marched her the rest of the way.

The café, when they finally arrived, was dark, smoky and cramped with builders having midday cups of coffee and burgers. They trooped in and took a seat at the back.

"What's good to eat around here?" asked Katrina, eyeing a burger with longing.

"They do a good line in salad actually," said Danni, helpfully pointing to the back of the menu, "Chicken Cesar is the best one in my opinion anyway."

"Oh no, you gotta have the BLT" encouraged Mark from across the table.

"Mmmh, I dunno, this little lady needs to watch her figure."

"No, way" Sonja elbowed her, "you're really slim."

Katrina blushed yet again and stammeringly asked Sonja what she was having.

"Plain salad… this little lady needs to watch her figure too." Sonja pouted.

"I'll watch it for you." Said Vlad from the seat opposite, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Apparently the couple were banned from sitting next to each other in public because of what Danni termed their "wildly inappropriate behavior".

The quartet laughed and joked all through their lunch hour, Katrina joined in with the conversation and filled them in on life in Chicago and her friends there. All too soon it was time to go back to class. Katrina sighed, laying down some money for her salad.

"What's up?" Asked Danni.

"Nothing, not really looking forward to hours more of the "dragon lady" in class this afternoon." Katrina's toes still hurt form the morning's exertions.

"Don't worry" Piped up Sonja, wiping on some lip-gloss and checking her reflection in her compact. "It's all good practice, and we'll need it too, I heard that auditions might be as soon as next week."

"Next week?" the others chorused back, horrified.

"Yeah, I overheard _smoky-Josie _Lawrence talking to Dan Kline about the scheduling of auditions. Apparently it's a _nightmare._" She smiled wickedly, imitating the receptionist's clipped tones.

"No way Sonja." Said Danni, looking a little shell-shocked, "we don't even know what we're doing for this season yet!"

"Well, I'm sure we'll soon find out."

On that gloomy note the dancers filed mutely out of the café and into the icy streets outside, Sonja and Vlad hand in hand once more.

A/N Thanks for reading! xxx


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own Warrior (surprise!)

**Chapter 5**

_**January 19**__**th**___

Tommy's alarm went off at six in the morning and he jerked awake out of a dream full of gunshots and desert sand. Smacking the alarm off, he waited in the pitch-darkness for his heart rate to return to normal before rolling to his feet and heading for the shower. It was too early yet for anyone else to be up and he tried his best to be quiet.

Tess had returned from her sister's house last night and the family, Tommy included, had gone out for pizza, much to the girl's delight. He was finding, to his surprise that he actually got on well with Tess. He admired her stoic no-nonsense attitude, which had allowed her to accept that he would be sleeping on their couch for the foreseeable future without question or fuss. Tess reminded Tommy painfully of his own mother, the two women had the same warmth and devotion to their children but despite the pain of reminiscence, he liked being around her. Plus, he thought, she made Brendan incredibly happy and anyone who did that was good enough for him.

In the last few days Tommy had begun to relax into his temporary home, he'd stopped waking Brendan up in the middle of the night, wracked with nightmares and his craving for the pain meds he'd thrown away had started to ebb somewhat.

Getting out of the shower Tommy quickly surveyed himself in the mirror taking in the shoulder, still slightly discolored and swollen from the re-setting, which had hurt like a bitch. He was still relatively skinny, nothing like his fighting weight at Sparta but the dark circles had been wiped from under his eyes and the color come back into his face. _No oil painting _he thought ruefully, slipping on a shirt, _but less like a crack addict at least. _

He was borrowing Brendan's car, after Sparta, the family had been able to afford a second one for Tess. Brendan had given him the keys the night before and threatened to take his balls off if he so much as scratched "old faithful." It was typical; Brendan had been just the same with his first car back in high school when he made Tommy walk three miles home for putting his feet up on the dashboard.

Arriving at the Frank's Gym just before eight, Tommy noticed that it was open and several men were already doing sets in the weights area as he made his way towards Frank's office.

He knocked and stuck his head around the door.

"Tommy! Come in." Frank stage whispered, as he was on the phone. Tommy loitered awkwardly, hands in the pockets of his jeans. He waited for Frank to finish his conversation and stared at the many pictures of famous fighters on the walls.

"You've got quite a collection going here" he said when Frank put down the phone.

"Thanks" Frank replied, "I should probably get a picture of you and Brendan up there one of these days."

"Yeah, well one of Bren definitely." Tommy said quietly, Frank nodded and motioned for Tommy to sit.

"Okay, here's what I need you to do for today," he pushed a stack of papers across the desk. Tommy looked nonplussed.

"They're application forms for fighters to enter different competitions, see?" he pointed to the headers, "MMA Carolina, the Red bull Tournament in LA, yeah?"

"Okay so, what do I do with them?" asked Tommy.

"Right, so each tournament has a website and the entry form that the fighter fills in has to be re-posted online and _then_ we need to get the dates of their fights, and it all goes in the spreadsheets."

"Right…" said Tommy, not sure how to feel about his first taste of office work, "So where do I do all this?"

"Here, you're manning the desk for a couple hours while I go and talk to some potential sponsors. That okay?"

"Yeah," Tommy nodded, "I think I can handle that, do people come in here to sign up to the gym?" he asked remembering Colt Boyd's setup.

"Yeah, the sheets are here-" he indicated a draw on the left, "and insurance waivers are there as well."

"Okay. Good." Said Tommy seemingly for the hundredth time. The two men swapped places and he noticed for the first time that Frank was wearing a suit. He smirked, Frank looked about as comfortable in a suit as he would in a dress. "So, you're going all out for those sponsors huh?"

"A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do." And with that Frank strode of the office leaving Tommy alone with a mountain of paperwork.

The fist thing Tommy noticed about working in the office was how unbelievably distracting the sound of the gym was when he was immersed in the fiddly task of entering the fighters for their upcoming competitions. After deleting one profile completely and having to start from scratch and then nearly entering a 200- pound fighter into a bantamweight regional bout he gave up and decided he needed a break.

Heading out of the office and rolling his shoulder a few times experimentally he nearly went headfirst into a large black man walking in the opposite direction.

"Whoa there." The man said pulling up sharply.

"Sorry man." Replied Tommy, embarrassed.

"It's alright- say," the man's Harlem drawl stretched the words out to improbable proportions, "You're that Tommy Riordan guy aint'cha?"

"Uh yeah, why?" The man raised his eyebrows at Tommy's defensiveness but then smiled again, very white teeth glinting against his dark skin, Tommy noticed that he had no fewer than three gold caps.

"Jay Dwayne" he said, sticking out a hand the size of a dinner plate "Nice to meet'cha man. You trainin' here too?"

"Not yet" replied Tommy, shaking his hand "I'm working in the office."

"The office? Man you should be out there in the cage, I saw you in Sparta, was pretty dope." Tommy felt his ears go red. He'd heard that he'd gained some fans from his involvement in Sparta but as he was sent straight back into the Marines he'd never really met any.

"Uhh, thanks man, its just 'till my shoulder heals up then I'm gonna get back in shape."

"Oh, cool man well, I'd better hit the weights, Frank's got me here all hours of the day. Where is he by the way?"

"Talkin' to sponsors."

"Ah, right well, catch up w'cha later then."

"Yeah man, see ya." And with a wave Jay was striding off towards a group of equally massive men by the weights all of which turned to gawp at Tommy, Jay had obviously told them who he was. Feeling supremely uncomfortable under the scrutiny, Tommy returned to the office.

Filling in the last sign-up form on the computer and shutting the dammed thing down, Tommy lent back in his chair and stretched, feeling his back click in a satisfying manner. Frank was due back at any moment and Tommy was desperate to get off desk duty, sitting still was never his forte. He checked his watch, it was twelve thirty almost time for lunch. Just as he was wondering where he could pick up a sandwich, Frank came bursting into the office, shrugging off his coat he threw it over the back of a chair.

"Y'alright?" asked Tommy as Frank threw himself down into the chair across the desk and rubbed his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah been in meetings all this morning. One of the fighters here has _lost_ his sponsor."

"How'd he manage that?" Tommy gathered up the completed forms, which he had spread across the desk and handed them to Frank.

"Oh you know-" Frank flicked through the sign-up forms checking the dates, "DUI, drug position… he was being sponsored by Gatorade so you're supposed to uphold some sort of clean living image..."

"His loss I guess" Said Tommy getting up and putting on his jacket. "I'm off for lunch- half an hour?"

"No take the hour off, I've got some more emails to send."

"Okay."

With that Tommy strode out of the office and back into the main gym, hood up and hands in the pockets. However keeping his head down didn't stop him from being waylaid.

"Hey man, Riordan!" he heard from somewhere to his left, getting a feeling this was aimed at him Tommy was torn between stopping and being polite or pretending he hadn't heard and making a break for it. In the end the manners his mother had instilled in him won out.

"Hey." he replied lowering his hood to take a look at who was calling him. It was Jay; towel over one shoulder, waving for him to come over.

Jay's two friends were both obviously heavy weight fighters, looking more like basketball players on steroids. They towered over Tommy and were obviously excited to meet him, the man who'd ripped the door off a tank. The men introduced them selves as Joe and Chad both fighters of Frank's. Tommy shook their hands and asked them what fights they were looking to be competing at in the near future. The conversations took them all the way out of the gym and before he knew it Tommy was settled into a booth at a greasy spoon café across the road. It reminded Tommy of the place where he had met with his father to ask him to train him for Sparta all those months ago. He felt a pang of guilt at not having visited him. They had spoken a few times on the phone during Tommy's time at Camp George but not nearly to the extent to which he had spoken to Brendan. Secretly Tommy wondered it his father's relapse hadn't something to do with it, if the tables hadn't turned and now his old man was avoiding _him_.

"Man!" someone clicked their fingers in front of his face and Tommy jerked back to reality.

"What?" everyone was looking at him.

"What you gonna have darlin'?" a pretty blonde waitress was looking at him expectantly.

"Uhh," Tommy stalled, looking at Jay who threw his hands up.

"Don't look at me man I already ordered."

"Right, err- I'll have a quarter pounder thanks" The three heavy weights looked jealous, Tommy felt the back of his neck and his ears heat up in embarrassment, "I'm trying to get back to middle weight."

"Don't tell me you lost condition in the _Marines, _what were you doing for Sparta?" asked Chad.

"My old man was training me, he knows how it's done, I reckon I lost about twenty pounds in the Marines but that's my fault."

Chad and the others looked flabbergasted, "Twenty pounds? You ever think about going down the weight class permanently?"

"Yeah, thought about it but Sparta is a middle weight competition-"

"We know." Chorused the heavy weights, obviously not pleased to be out of the running for such a high profile competition with such a large purse.

The waitress returned with three plates of chicken salad and a hamburger, she made eyes at Joe (who only had eyes for Tommy's hamburger) and left in a huff.

"Man she was totally giving you _the look!_" stage whispered Jay to his friend who almost choked on a piece of chicken.

"I, um, I'm sure she was just doin' her job" stuttered Jay his Hispanic olive skin flushing.

"Yeah, I'm sure she was _just doing her job_," mocked Chad. "Joe's useless with chicks" he explained to Tommy as though he scene needed further clarification. "Me'n Jay have been tryin' to set him up for ages now but… no luck."

"Really? Thought you'd be a hit with the groupies." smiled Tommy.

"He is, just too shy to see it." Said Jay.

Joe muttered something mutinous into his salad, flushing deeper. The others grinned.

Just then someone entered the café and the thick smoke inside cleared momentarily as a stiff breeze rushed in. Tommy, having sat in the aisle seat facing the door was the first to see the girls walk in but the expression on his face was enough to have the others craning their necks to take a look.

Three girls entered the café, looking as out of place as butterflies in a swamp. They maneuvered themselves to the bar and sat chattering softly.

"The other advantage of this place," pointed out Jay, speaking quietly so they wouldn't be overheard, "some of the chicks from _Pittsburgh ballet_ hang out here in their lunch break."

"Ballet dancers? I didn't know the 'Burg even had a _ballet_," Tommy stole another appreciative look at the girls at the bar.

"I talked to 'em once" mumbled Joe from across the table.

"Just about the only time he's ever talked to a woman." Laughed Chad.

"Shut up man! It was the blonde one there." Joe looked longingly at the tiny white-blond woman with hair that tumbled down her back. She was whispering something to one of her friends; a girl with dark brunette hair and deep pink lips that Tommy would dream about that night.

"She is _pretty_ hot." Said Jay simply, returning to his salad with renewed vigor, "They come in a few times a week, puts this place head and shoulders above any other joint in town."

The others agreed and returned to their lunch, to conversation moved to training and Frank's use of Mozart, which all the fighters agreed was proving weirdly effective.

"It sorted Midnight Lee out," said Joe conversationally, "Remember when he first came here?"

"Yeah," agreed Chad "he was all over the place, I think getting beat by your bro sort of took it out of his confidence y'know?"

Tommy felt a rush of pride for Brendan, the toughest brother on the planet.

"I thought Midnight trained in Chicago?" questioned Tommy, taking another bite of burger- he sure was glad to be off military rations.

"He was," explained Chad "But after Sparta he ditched his trainer and came straight to Frank- tryin' to get a piece of the Campana magic."

"And he's improving again?" asked Tommy.

"Scoping out the competition already?" grinned Jay.

"You have to know who you're getting into the cage with, right?"

"Well, as long as you're not planning on fighting your brother again I don't think you have to worry." Jay chuckled, the deep bass vibrating the whole table.

"Say-" asked Jay tipping the waitress as they made to leave, "Your brother ever getting back in the ring?"

Tommy shrugged slipping on his jacket in preparation for the cold Pittsburgh air. "I don't think so, not after Sparta." He didn't add that Tess would probably never forgive him if he did.

"So you really are in the running then for the five million?"

"I guess, have to see how my shoulder heals up and if I can get back in shape in time." The other men nodded together like bobbing dogs on a dashboard.

As Tommy and the others headed back across the road towards the gym, they all chanced a last look at the dancers at the bar caught each other looking and laughed. _Maybe_, Tommy thought, _things might be looking up_. The girl with pink lips caught his eye as he looked back at the café for one last time. Things were definitely looking up.

A/N Thanks for reading (I will totally respond to any reviews so if you have any comments/critique please don't hold back) xxx


	6. Chapter 6

****Disclaimer: I own nothing

**Chapter 6**

**January 30****th**

_Fudge! Crud! Crap!_ Katrina tried to think of every not-too-rude word she could as she felt her last pair of pointe shoes give way under her toes. _Shit. _That did it. They were practicing turns in the soloist's studio and by now everyone was drenched with sweat and several pairs of dead pointe shoes languished in the trash.

"Again!" cried Madame B; over the past few days Katrina had learned a few things about the temperamental ballet mistress. Firstly that her full name was Bertoli, she was from New York and ha several cats. More importantly, Katrina had learned to keep well out of her way during a class. The woman's mood swings were the stuff of legend and Sonja had recounted to her a number of particular dramatic episodes where someone had either been hit over the head with a slipper or Madam B had stormed out of the class. In first class after hearing Sonja's lurid tales, Katrina had practically hugged the wall for the first half an hour.

"Mam?" Katrina raised a slightly shaky hand and Madame B rounded on her.

"Yes?"

"My pointes have just died on me can I-" but Madame B interrupted her.

"Go! Go! You may as well get out if you don't have another pair, we finish in ten minutes anyway. Go on." Madame B started flapping and shooing her out of the studio.

Without waiting to be told twice Katrina nodded mutely and scurried out. She only removed the offending shoes when she was safely in the concrete corridor outside. She sat on the floor, brushing a few damp strands of hair out of her eyes working out the knot of the ribbons at her ankle.

Just as she got the fist shoe off and was flexing her sore toes she heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Footsteps with a heavy tread and the tap of hard soled shoes. She looked up and saw Daniel Kline approaching her, a wide smile on his tanned and handsome face.

"Hello little Katrina" he called jovially. They hadn't spoken a word since her first day and she felt heat rising into her cheeks and she tried to gracefully scrabble up the wall. He chuckled softly and her efforts and took her hand to help her up. His hand was very warm and dry; she felt the power in his grip as he pulled her to his feet.

"Thanks" she said looking at the ground; her hand tingled as he let it go.

"You're welcome," he frowned, "Aren't you meant to be in class?" gesturing to the door which she had recently come through.

"Yeah- my last pair of pointes died so I got sent out_."_

_Being in this company is just like being in school; I feel like I should have a hall pass!_ Katrina thought.

"Oh, that's a shame" Daniel said, "Do you have more pointes at home, I realize that we haven't given you an allowance to get any. I'm sorry, I should have organized that, it's been busy around here." He grinned sheepishly and looked so boyish that her knees all but melted.

"That's alright Mr. Klien-"

"Daniel, please, we are friends yes?"

"uhh, yes. Daniel…" _Actually you're my boss _she thought "Anyway don't worry about it, I have a pair in my locker… an allowance would be great though."

"I'll organize that tonight got to have you in good shape for the season so no dancing on ruined shoes you hear me?" he tried to sound stern but smiled again and she really did melt that time.

"Of course…"

Just at that moment every soloist in the company poured out of the doors just next to them and filed past sneaking covert looks, some, like Lauren Meyers, openly glaring at her. Suddenly her position, backed against a wall with Daniel Kline, the director of the whole company almost chest to chest with her, seemed highly inappropriate. She felt her cheeks blanche with acute embarrassment, and looked at her feet, one in a pointe shoe and one bare. "I'd better go." She said quietly wishing he were standing a little further away now that everybody could see.

"Of course, you should go for lunch I, uhh need to speak with Madam Bertoli right away." Daniel quickly turned and entered the studio, shutting the door behind him.

As she was busily undoing her second pointe shoe she felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up sharply but it was Mark, coat and scarf on, obviously ready to go for break. He was making himself busy, wrapping up her shoes and putting them into her bag.

"Thanks" she said touched by his helpfulness.

"Its quite alright doll" he said, his deep voice soothing her slightly frazzled nerves "That was quite a show you were putting on there " he grinned up at her to show he was joking.

"Its not what it looks like." she countered, "He was just offering to get me a pointe shoe allowance."

"Sugar daddy!" teased Mark handing her the bag as she glared at him "Now, are you coming to lunch or are you gonna sulk? All alone- with no one but _Lauren Meyers_ for company?"

Lauren Meyers had fast become a running joke within the group; from her fist sight of Katrina she had disliked her cordially and never missed a chance to make her feelings known. Lauren, as Katrina had learned too late, was the new principal at Pittsburgh Ballet replacing the well-liked Joanne Billings who was on an indefinite maternity leave but kept sending in postcards and photographs of her growing bump which the other dancers shared around and cooed over.

Lauren on the other hand was the very epitome of the wonderful word _"standoffish"_, borderline rude with every word that came out of her mouth.

Thankfully no one else liked her much either with the notable exceptions of Dorian Toulouse and Daniel Kline, both of whom had been spotted checking her out as she passed in the corridors.

"Do you think Lauren was _jealous_?" asked Katrina.

"Jealous? Darl, why should she be jealous of something she's _already had?_"

"Seriously? You think she and-?"

"You are so naive sometimes Katy, breaks my heart." Mark rolled his dark cat-like eyes at her "How else do you think she made principal?"

"I dunno she's a good dancer?"

"Sure sure." By that awkward point in the conversation they had reached the greasy spoon café where Sonja, Danni and Vlad were waiting. Sonja and Vlad were sitting with Danni in between because they were "on the rocks" as Sonja had confided that morning in the dressing room. Vlad had forgotten their six-month anniversary.

Katrina ordered a Cesar salad and settled next to Danni whilst Mark joined Vlad on the men's side of the table. It had turned out, that first day, that Sonja had been wrong about auditions. They'd been called into the main rehearsal space after their abbreviated lunch hour so that Daniel could welcome them back for "What he hoped would be a very exciting and successful season with the Pittsburgh Ballet." He'd also introduced Lauren as Joanne's replacement as their new head soloist. A move, which Sonja had whispered, was tantamount to promising her the lead role this season and had caused many hushed whisperings amongst the crowd.

Since then the company had been conditioning and training hard every day, stretching and strengthening muscles which had grown comparatively soft after their Christmas holidays but still there was no mention of their next show. The company was starting to get antsy; Katrina noticed how everyone's eyes scanned the noticeboard at the entrance everyday looking for a hint as to what was planned for the months ahead.

Finally, after what had seemed a truly interminable wait, Katrina arrived early one morning and had spotted a sign on the notice board announcing that the forthcoming production would be announced that afternoon after lunch.

"You know," Katrina said to Sonja who was moodily toying with her sandwich "I was so exciting about this afternoon. I woke up this morning and rushed straight out of the house without any breakfast or even a coat!" she giggled. Sonja and Vlad's stony silences to each other were making her a little nervy. Mark smiled encouragingly as Sonja cracked her first smile of the day.

"I know right?" Sonja agreed. "Especially since that Toulouse guy was here, he's such a famous choreographer and _I know_ he was just meant to be visiting Daniel and sight-seeing but I bet he's come up with some of the choreography for the show. They spent an awful lot of time in that office."

Dorian Toulouse's visit to Pittsburgh had piqued everyone's interest. The choreographer's work was often featured on the stages of Paris, London, and New York and his exploits in the pages of Dance weekly. As troublesome as he was brilliant, Toulouse was often pictured falling out of clubs and hotels with dancers and models on his arms. His stay in Pittsburgh had kept all the female dancers, and some of the men on their toes. Full make-up and even false eyelashes and nails had been worn with gusto but unfortunately the object of all their affections had remained cloistered in the office with Daniel Kline almost all week, causing much frustration.

"I agree with you there Sonja, but do you think we will be doing an original piece of his or an adaptation of a classic?" asked Danni. She had her nails painted in stripes of blue white and red in the style of the French flag in Toulouse's honor, much to everyone's amusement.

"I dunno… I think a classic, you sell more tickets that way."

Vlad made a noise of agreement from across the table and Sonja glared at him.

They paid and left soon after that, all eager to get back to the studios and find out the news. As they walked, Vlad throwing Sonja sidelong looks every five seconds, Sonja took Katrina's sleeve and drew her to the back of the group so they could talk in private.

"What is it?" Katrina asked, looking down at her redheaded friend, with raised eyebrows.

"Okay, I have a proposition for you."

"A proposition?" Sonja had a twinkle in her eye which Katrina had a feeling would lead to nothing but trouble.

"Yes, so- you know this job doesn't exactly pay much right?"

"Yeah?" Katrina was accustomed to the genteel poverty of a dancer's meager wages.

"Well, how would you like to earn a little extra money?" Katrina gave her a swift look. " From _Dancing! _I'm not offering you a job in a strip club or anything!"

"That's a relief." They both laughed, their breath making clouds of steam in the cold January air.

"No. No stripping. It's a sort of dance _team_, we do half-time shows at local sporting events… football, basketball, that's the big one actually and even some boxing matches. Just to keep the crowd entertained."

"I'm guessing its not much ballet then?"

Sonja snorted in a very unladylike fashion, "Not much, more _shaking yo' booty_ and some acrobatics even some cool air stunts, lifts and throws. I think you'd be good."

"Thanks," Katrina smiled "it sounds like fun, _lots_ of fun. But when do you guys find the time to rehearse?"

"Of course it sounds like fun! We rehearse on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, the routines aren't hard or anything so we do just one or two hours at a time."

"Okay… and what about when we have the show to do? We're going to have some pretty crazy hours to keep."

"Its not a problem, the whole group is from the PB so we can be flexible. Some days we practice before coming to work."

"Wow, dedication."

Sonja shrugged her tiny shoulders "It's a good earner, there's only eight of us at the moment but we're a popular group and its nice to have some money that doesn't go on rent or insurance or the _gas bill_ y'know?"

"Yeah, I totally know what you mean. So do I have to audition?"

"Nah… just come along on Wednesday and we'll work you into the routine. I already recommended you."

"Oh my gosh, thank you! This sounds _so_ great." Katrina clapped her hands in excitement.

"Just you wait till you see our uniforms." chuckled Sonja.

"Oh my god what are they? Katrina came to a halt. I'm not dancing in my panties, my mom watches the TV y'know and she'd never forgive me."

"Oh no" said Sonja reassuringly, taking Katrina by the arm and leading her back to the rest of the group as they rounded the corner back to the studios. "Its not underwear, but- crop tops, booty shorts… the girl who came up with the group, Lacy, you know her right?" An image of a tall girl with lots of dark curly hair and a flirty personality came to Katrina's mind.

"Yeah?"

"Well she's in charge and she's from Georgia, loves that whole _cheerleader_ thing so expect sparkles. And spandex."

"Sparkles, spandex… okay… I can deal with that." Katrina smiled at Sonja as they passed back through the stage doors into the main hall, shedding their coats and stood waiting for the big announcement.

A/N thanks for reading! please leave a review! x


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I own nothing**  
**

**Chapter 7**

**January 30****th**

Tommy and Brendan were in the doctor's waiting room, Brendan pretending to read a magazine but really he was watching Tommy from the corner of his eye. He was amazed at the change in his brother over the course of their six-month separation. The man he had battled with at Sparta, the man with whom he had traded bitter words on the beach was gone. All the anger and spite that Tommy had kept bottled up against Brendan and their father, had seemingly drained out of him. The rage, which had been barely under control in the young marine, the rage which had fueled his fighting was gone. Instead, Tommy seemed oddly directionless to Brendan, tired, almost passive; agreeing to stay with Brendan, accepting his financial help and even agreeing to visit a doctor, something they both knew Brendan would have to pay for. Brendan had also realized just how shy Tommy was around new people, he recognized that Tommy's "tough guy" reputation preceded him and that Tommy hid behind it totally, allowing people to come to whatever assumptions about him they would, never reveling anything of his personality.

Brendan smiled wryly to himself, this general reticence was nothing new with Tommy, even when the boys had been young Brendan had been the outgoing one, the football captain, prom-king type whereas Tommy had been quite the opposite. Quiet, intense and brilliant at sport, Tommy had had few friends at school, especially after he started competitive wrestling whereupon his obsessive training had claimed every scrap of his time and of course Paddy's attention. But, it was too late to be having thoughts like that Brendan remonstrated himself; when he thought of Tommy's last few years he knew how little there was to be jealous of in his younger brother's life.

Brendan felt a surge of protectiveness towards Tommy just as he had at the final of Sparta when he had half-carried his sobbing brother out of the cage and into an ambulance. At that moment he'd wanted to shelter Tommy from a world that had been so hard to him from such a young age, wanted to atone for the years of abandonment because, no matter what he said to Tommy about only being a kid when he'd left Tommy and their mother to escape Pittsburgh without him, he still felt the shame of his betrayal.

Now in the sterile, featureless waiting room, this shame stabbed at him afresh. It was his fault that Tommy was here. His fault that he may never fight again as he so desperately wanted to do. The memory of the sick cracking sound as Tommy's shoulder dislocated and his brother's cry of agony echoed inside his skull and Brendan shut the magazine with a snap. Leaning back in his seat with a sigh, he rubbed his eyes.

"Hey Bren?" Tommy looked up, "You alright?"

"Yeah. I'm fine… not the one seeing the doctor am I."

Tommy cracked a grin, "That's true." Then, seeing the look of pity flashing across Brendan's face Tommy understood. "You're not feeling guilty are ya? Not after six months?"

Brendan sighed again "Yes I still feel fucking guilty. How could I not? You were in the _hospital_ Tommy! And that was my fault!"

Tommy sighed too, looking hard at Brendan. "Look. Bren, I won't say I wasn't angry. Okay? The first few days when I was out of hospital I must have cussed you out a thousand times. But now? Its okay. You did what you had to do, for your family. I can respect that, would have done the same."

"But you didn't though…"

"Nah, never got the chance, you're a slippery bastard in the cage." Tommy shrugged nonchalantly with one shoulder, picking up the magazine that Brendan had abandoned.

The news was good. Tommy came out of the doctor's office with a script for sleeping pills, which he would never take, and one for painkillers, which he would have thrown away if not for Brendan's intervention. The doctor warned him that getting back the full range of mobility not to mention the strength in his shoulder was going to take some time. He would have recommended physical therapy but, he recognized that if the shoulder could stand up to six months of drills in the marines then physio was unlikely to do much good at this stage. The doctor simply told Tommy to go easy on the weights and to do at least three weeks of some special resistance training exercises before the heavy punching and weight-lifting could begin in earnest. _All in all_, thought Tommy, _not too bad_.

In fact, for once in Tommy Riordan's life he could say that almost everything was _not too bad_. His work for Frank, although dull at times would get him back to the training he craved, his shoulder was on the mend and so was his relationship with Brendan. Tess was helping that gap heal even better and seemed to be the glue that kept the Conlan family together.

Jay and the other heavyweights had kept on inviting Tommy to lunch, seemingly determined to be friendly and he was starting to feel, much as he had in the military, that he was a part of a band of brothers, people he could trust and relate to.

In fact, only thing that Tommy was seriously worried about was Pop. He still hadn't gone to see the old man, unwilling perhaps to burst the small bubble of peace in which he found himself. Brendan hadn't spoken to him either, so neither knew what to expect, except that this time neither brother would be going alone. Tommy privately wondered what they would find, the old man back on the drink as he had been in Atlantic City? Or perhaps Pop would be just as sober and groveling, as plaintive and pathetic as he head been the first night Tommy had seen him in Pittsburgh. Neither thought cheered Tommy much and as the brothers made the drive from the surgery to Frank's gym, Brendan noticed his subdued mood.

"What y'thinking about?" he asked.

"Pops… not even sure I _want_ to visit him. But we gotta."

"We don't _have_ to, not if you're not ready." Brendan appreciated that although he had plenty of problems of his own to do with his father, Tommy's were fresher, sharpened by their mother's death.

Tommy nodded wordlessly, settling deeper into his seat, his expression unreadable.

Brendan dropped Tommy off at the gym and drove off to collect the girls from a friend's house.

Inside a fight was in progress and most of the men had abandoned their weights and punching bags to have a watch. Midnight Lee, sweat dripping and fists flying was slugging it out against a heavily muscled man with tattoos on his face. The two were circling each other like tigers in a pen. The tattooed man kicked out at Midnight who was not quite quick enough to dodge it, he doubled over momentarily which gave the other man an opportunity to throw him to the floor. But, the burly fighter wasn't beaten yet. As quick as a flash Midnight was back on his feet, rallying, he applied his fists to the tattooed face with the swift efficiently which he traded on; Midnight was not a flexible fighter, his strength lay in his fists and feet.

The other man staggered back and by the time Tommy had reached the side of the platform with the sound of Beethoven echoing from Frank's speakers, the tattooed man was out cold.

"Go on Midnight!" yelled Frank, evidently elated that his new high-profile fighter was back in the game.

"Finish him!" yelled the crowd, fists pumping into the air. Midnight obliged by kicked the tattooed man in the ribs.

In an instant Frank was in the ring with the two men and breaking up the scuffle.

"Okay, okay! Back to work!" he yelled, and the knots of bystanders dispersed slowly still pumped up by the display in the ring.

Tommy passed by the ring, nodding a brief greeting to Jay and the heavyweights as they sloped off, back to their punching bags. He saw Frank exchanging words with Midnight whilst he un-taped the fighter's hands. Witnessing the fight had reminded Tommy about his own ambitions, he was itching to get back into the ring and, after the doctor's good diagnosis that morning he saw no reason not to get back in training; if Frank would have him that was. Tommy's time at Camp George had cost him near a stone in weight, a far cry from the condition he had been in for Sparta. All the work he'd done had been erased in only a few short months leaving him at square one.

Tommy sat down in the office with a sigh, waiting for Frank to come in and tell him what needed doing. He stood up again moments later, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck, never able to stay still for too long.

At that moment Frank burst into the office, grinning broadly, "He's good isn't he?" he said, evidently speaking about Midnight who was warming down outside.

"Yeah, real good." Said Tommy scratching the back of his neck.

"So, you working all day today?" asked Frank, shuffling through some papers and pulling out yet more fighter's entry forms. Tommy glared at the offending slips of paper before nodding.

"I went to the doctor's today, with Bren… " Frank's had jerked up as though pulled by a string.

"Yeah?"

"Well, Doc says that my shoulder should be almost back to normal in a few weeks, got some strong painkillers for it-"

"So you want to get back in the ring?" Frank gave him a level look as Tommy nodded. Then he sat down with a tired sigh. "Look. Seven months ago you were potentially the best middleweight fighter in the country, if not the world. But _now_? I don't' know. You've been out of the game for six months, lost a lot of condition and you've had this injury... It's going to take a while to get you back to the shape you were in for Sparta, maybe about a year."

"I know I'm ready for that." Tommy deadpanned.

"Yeah, I think you are too…" Frank smiled slightly then stood up and came around the desk next to Tommy. "If you're going to train here Tommy, I'll be your trainer but that means Beethoven, and a lot of work on your technique, I saw you fighting out there in Sparta it was all instinct and I think we can work with that. Deal?"

"Deal." Said Tommy, shaking Frank's hand.

A/N Oooh, two chapters in a day! I just thought these guys were a bit short to go up on their own, so enjoy! xx


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I own nothing (life's just not fair!)

**Chapter 8**

**January 30****th**

Katrina and the other dancers assembled in the main studio, cheeks and ears pink from the cold outside. Daniel Kline walked amongst them, stopping here and there to talk to a dancer and welcome them back from the holidays. When he reached the front he turned to face the group, arms spread wide like the messiah.

"Company!" he said in a ringing voice. "I hope you had a wonderful Christmas, and rested well. You will need it. This season we are going to do something a little different, a little avant-garde. So, a fusion piece, a post-modern ballet for this industrial city _but _with a traditional story. Snow White, done to death I know but, not like this. We strip it down, make it visceral, real."

A frisson of excitement passed around the room, everyone whispering to each other the sound rising like a swarm of bees.

Daniel Klein's voice rose higher above the buzz.

"We use mostly the Angelin Preljocaj choreography, with a few of my own adjustments," more whispering ensued, louder this time. "Company!" Daniel Kline's voice rose above them again forcing silence. "I know it's unorthodox, different, but I think that is exactly what this city needs from us, so we take a risk_. _Soloists if you could accompany Madam B to the first studio we can begin work on audition pieces. The rest of you, to class!" He clapped his hands together and everybody bustled off, stripping off jumpers and coats, getting ready.

Katrina and Sonja made their way hurriedly to the soloist's dressing room to prepare.

"Exciting isn't it?" wondered Sonja aloud "I love Preljocaj's work, no pointe shoes, its so fluid and _so_ romantic."

"I've never seen it but I heard its way hard_._" added Katrina, slipping on her leotard with a wriggle, "there's so much acting in it, I always hated that, I always get shy on stage if I'm in a character role."

"I'm sure you'll do just fine" Sonja reassured her with a smile, "maybe you'll be a sexy nymph in the forest, that'd be fun."

"Sexy nymph? I don't remember _that_ part," asked Katrina non-plussed.

"Haven't you seen Snow White?" Sonja asked, slipping on her "lucky tights", when Katrina shook her head she continued, "you should, it's super sexy, there's even like _lesbian action._" She giggled.

"Lesbian _action_? This is a ballet!"

"A sexy ballet. God, I wish I could be Snow White, maybe Vlad could be my handsome prince?"

"I thought you two were on the outs?"

"Yeah, but he's still the one right? Sometimes I worry that we fight too much."

"You two definitely have the chemistry, what's romance without some sparks anyway. You'd be great together, but I wouldn't put it past you to get carried away on stage and offend the censors…"

They'd finished getting dressed by this point, except for pointe shoes, Karina fished her very last pair out of the back of her locker and sent a silent prayer up to heaven that they would last for the rest of the day.

There was a tense silence in the soloist's studio when Katrina entered. All the dancers were ranged against one wall whilst Madame B walked them through the audition pieces. The music poured out of the piano like honey and Madam B was thoroughly enjoying herself. The dance she demonstrated looked monstrously difficult to Katrina; it was the part of the ballet where Snow White had fallen into an enchanted sleep and her prince was desperately trying to wake her. The female dancer was required to slip and slide in absolute passivity whilst at the same time being lifted and turned at lighting speed.

"Do we actually have to dace it with our eyes shut?" Katrina asked Sonja in a whisper.

"I think so…" she replied, eyes glued to the demonstration.

The music ended and all the dancers applauded politely as Madame B took a deep curtsey and the male dancer who had been playing the part of the Prince, bowed.

The rest of the session was spent paired up and practicing for the auditions, pairs were random so as to be as fair as possible and Katrina found herself partnered to Vlad. This would have been great had not she felt Sonja's laser-beam stare digging into her spine. She winced at the stretch in her back as Vlad lifted her one-handed and she flopped backward as though in an enchanted sleep. Next moment she was on the floor with a thud.

"Ouch!" Katrina cried sitting up.

"Sorry sorry!" Vlad was kneeling beside her in a flash, "Are you hurt?" he asked, checking her for cuts and scrapes.

"No no, I'm fine" Katrina giggled as he lifted her to her feet and brushed her down like a small child. "Try it again?"

"Yeah. Again." They practiced, running the short routine again and again, Vlad bending her back until her head almost touched the ground and then pressing her close, every inch the heart broken prince.

"Careful," she warned him, after a particularly tight clinch, "if you make Sonja any more jealous she might kill me in the locker-room."

"Well, I hope to make her jealous, maybe find my way back into her affections?"

"Have you tried flowers and chocolates? Or any other plans which don't put my life so directly at risk?"

"ermm… no."

"Well I suggest you start there- I bet Sonja is a sucker for a teddy bear."

Vlad grinned, picking her up and twirling her around as they finished the routine yet again. "I will take your advice to heart my lovely Snow White. A teddy bear it is."

The day ended in a flurry of excitement, the dates of the auditions had been put up for exactly one week's time and everyone was trying to fit in extra practice time with their partners. Katrina jogged to catch up with Sonja as sped out of the changing room.

"Hey!" she called, tapping Sonja on the shoulder, the tiny red-head whirled around to face her, close up Katrina could see that her friend was on the verge of tears.

"What?" she asked.

"I was just wondering if you were okay? About me doing the duet with Vlad… I know you guys aren't speaking but-" Katrina was well aware of the minefield of emotions that surrounded the "on again/ off again" relationship.

"Yeah…" Sonja broke off and the two began to walk out towards the street. "I guess I just really miss him. I know it sounds stupid but seeing you dance with him kinda hit a nerve."

"I'm sorry, but, I it's any conciliation, I know he's desperate to get you back- asked me for advice and everything."

"Really?" Sonja's eyes shone with fresh tears.

"Hey hey hey-" Katrina dug in her handbag for a tissue, "no crying!"

"I'm sorry!" groaned Sonja, dabbing at her eyes, "I'm not usually like this, must be audition stress."

"I know what you mean, but I think you'll be amazing. You've got a great partner and it'll be fine."

"Well look at you- miss motivator." laughed Sonja wetly, tears abated. "To be honest I don't think it really matters how well _any_ of us dance next week, Laruen only has to bat her eyelashes at Mr. Kline and she'll get the part." Katrina was surprised at the bitterness in her usually up-beat friend's tone.

"Has that been going on for a long time?" she asked, intrigued.

"Oh yes," Sonja looked around as though afraid that Lauren might be hiding behind a trashcan waiting to pounce. "For ages, even before Joanne left to have her baby. Daniel would single Lauren out, give her all the best roles… they even go out for lunch sometimes- I think he likes Lauren's _ice-queen_ thing." She sighed.

"That must be so annoying for the rest of you,"

"Oh yes, and it'll only get _worse_ now that she's taken Joanne's place."

The pair said their goodbyes as Katrina's bus pulled up at the stop, Sonja reminded her to stay after class on Wednesday so that they could practice for the team. Katrina promised to put it in her diary. As the bus pulled away Katrina spotted Sonja wiping her eyes again and hoped that Vlad would hurry up with that teddy bear.

The bus pulled up at Katrina's stop and she jerked out of a doze, only just managing to scramble off before the doors snapped shut. She trudged up the many flights of stairs to her apartment and once inside flopped straight down onto the couch. The room was still full of the empty boxes that she hadn't found the time or inclination to take down to the recycling depot a few streets away. Curling into a little ball on the couch Katrina let her eyes drift shut. _Just five minutes rest_ she thought.

By the time she woke up night had fallen and the stars were just visible over the lights of Pittsburgh. She sat up, very stiff from being curled up for so long, and padded over to the kitchen for a glass of water. She checked her phone- three missed calls, two were from Casey and one from her mother. She sent Casey a quick text, filling her in on the events of the day, Snow White, the auditions and her moonlighting as a cheerleader. She knew Casey would get a kick out of that.

The two girls had been utterly inseparable at the Joffrey School and later in the company, often spending their holidays together and even sharing a flat. Katrina missed Casey like she was missing a limb, the other girl's confident, strident attitude had been the perfect antidote to Katrina's occasional shyness; saving her from bullying at school and helping her make friends later on. Now Katrina had to strike out on her own.

For her mother, Katrina left a voice mail, knowing that her mother never checked her texts. She tried to reassure her that she was eating enough, getting enough sleep, and otherwise being very healthy. Her mother lived in constant fear of Katrina falling ill whilst she was away from home and sent her constant reminders to wrap up warm against the cold Pittsburgh weather. She smiled, listening to one of her mother's more anxious voicemails, it felt nice to be fussed over, even if the parent dong the fussing was hundreds of miles away in Maine. She flipped through some of the pictures on her phone of her last visit home, her and her mother wrapped up against the cold having hot chocolate at a café in Rockland, the view on a clear day over the water to the mainland from her mother's tiny house on the island of North Haven. She sighed, flipping the phone shut, it had been too long since she had been at home.

Katrina had left her mother's house on North Haven when she was eleven years old, taking the overland train across state lines to Chicago to attend the Joffrey School. She'd hardly been back since, staying at school for the holidays or living with Casey as the years went by but she still missed the quiet of the island. She missed the sound of the waves against the shore, the occasional buzz of the water planes landing, the smell of salt in the air and the swishing of long grasses against her legs as she ran down to the edge of the water to greet the ferry. She pulled herself back to the present, opening her eyes and trying to push the sounds of her childhood out of her head before she got too emotional. She refused to be homesick but all the same she listened to her mother's message again, just to hear her voice.

Wednesday dawned cold and clear through Katrina's cheap net curtains. The first rim of pink was just visible over a horizon of trembling blue-green, like light shifting thorough the shallows of North Haven bay. Katrina rolled off her bed and headed straight for the shower- it was getting increasingly chilly in her apartment as another cold front moved inexorably across the eastern seaboard.

Getting dressed and packing her bag for the day she paused, thinking about what she might need for her first practice with Sonja's "dance team", she tried on few different combinations- booty shorts, a little skirt. In the end she packed a pair of black Lycra shorts and a black tank top into her bag along with jazz shoes and her lucky sequined scrunchie that she's worn to her first Joffrey audition.

It was a slow day, everyone was stressed about auditions, Madame B was shouting more than usual and Vlad kept on breaking off during their practices to go and talk to Sonja with whom he had finally made up. Apparently a very large teddy bear had been involved along with some jewelry. Katrina was pleased that he'd taken her advice and happy for her friends, but all the same- fifteen minutes of uninterrupted practice time would have been nice. Katrina's whole body ached from being picked up and tossed around over and over, they finally called it quits for the day when Vlad's arms all but gave out under her weight. He was sweating profusely, skin pale, and shining with the effort, his tattoos standing out like brands.

"I think it's time to go home don't you?" she asked after being deposited unceremoniously on the floor.

"Definitely" Vlad agreed, wiping his forehead and helping her up. "I was planning on going home with Sonja but you all have that _dance team_ thing tonight don't you."

"Christ!" gasped Katrina, nearly flopping to the floor again, "I'd forgotten about that- it's my first time."

"Well I hope you have fun, we've watched the girls in action a few times, they did the half-time show at a few football games last year, even got in the papers."

"Wow, that's cool, bet you boys are _jealous_." Katrina joked, stretching out her cramping legs.

"Oh yes, especially about those cute uniforms."

"Oh, Sonja warned me about those, can you tell me more?" But Vlad just laughed archly and waved her goodbye, heading off towards the changing rooms.

The studio was now empty except for Lauren who was doing a few stretches at the barre; a look of utter concentration on her face. Whatever the others thought, Katrina had a feeling that Lauren worked very hard to earn her position at the company, in fact she wondered if it wasn't the extra pressure that made the girl so rude and bitchy, people always say it's lonely at the top. Katrina left her to it and hurried off to shower.

When Katrina looked up from lacing her jazz shoes she saw Sonja and Danni standing in front of her waiting.

"Coming?" Danni asked, tapping a foot impatiently.

"Yeah" she replied and straightened up to follow them.

When the trio entered the main studio Katrina saw that seven other dancers, all girls she recognized, stood about. Everyone was casually dressed, gone were the leotards and in there place were band t-shirts and booty shorts. Katrina breathed a sigh of relief that she wasn't going to stick out from the crowd.

Sonja introduced her to Lacy, the tall dark girl who had thought of the team and was acting as their "Head Cheerleader". Lacy's southern accent was thick enough to cut with a butter knife as she shook Katrina's hand warmly and welcomed her to the team. Everyone took their positions in the center to start a warm up, Katrina stayed at the back, observing everyone's movements, they cycled though plies, tondous and drilled some more contemporary steps. Katrina had to concentrate extra hard on those, her body unused to the hip-hip style. They crumped, shuffled, twisted and charlestoned; the music moving seamlessly though genre after genre.

After half an hour they stopped for a break, Lacy being much less of a slave-driver than Madame B.

"What do you think?" asked Sonja, sidling up to Katrina.

"I love it," she confessed, taking a pull from her water bottle, "are we about to start the routine?"

"No, we do that on Fridays, I think Lacy wants to run some stunts first."

_Stunts? _Katrina wondered silently, but there wasn't time to ask, as the music started again and girls started to spread out along one wall. Katrina followed, leaning against the barre as she watched the other girls perform flip after flip.

"Wanna try?" asked Lacy noticing her.

"Umm, sure," Katrina had done plenty of tumbling in the past at the Joffrey but it ha been a long time since she'd used the skill.

"Its easy, come on."

And indeed it was, by the end of the practice Katrina was remembering everything she used to love about tumbling, flying through the air and landing as light as a cat. On and on they went; the heavy beat of the music giving new life to the tired dancers as they practiced combination after combination, pyramids, cascades, and lifts.

A/N: Hang in there guys, more juicy bits coming up xx AI


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I own nothing

**Chapter 9**

_February 6th_

Tommy let a rare smile break over his face as he finished his last set of weights and sat up cracking his knuckles.

"What do you think?" he asked Frank, who had been spotting him.

"I think Marco Santo had better watch his back," replied Frank, holding out a hand to help Tommy up. The two had been working-out after hours, rehabilitating Tommy's shoulder and starting to work on his general condition. Frank, disagreeing with the doctor's "no physical therapy" diagnosis had given Tommy a long list of exercises he could do every day to strengthen the damaged muscles. He pushed Tommy hard but that was the way he liked it, the exercise took his mind of his other troubles.

The two men had sort of become friends, Frank admired Tommy's work ethic, his willingness to do the desk job he was so clearly unsuited for and his quiet sense of humor, a trait that Tommy reveled as rarely as his smile. On Tommy's part he was starting to enjoy working for Frank, being back in the gym where he was most comfortable and being on the road to competing again. Tommy respected Frank's training abilities, drawing out the best in each fighter: Jay's quick fists, Midnight's strength, and Brendon's technique. He longed to be in training properly, sparring in the ring, or working out the day's frustrations against a punching bag. However, Frank had been adamant; he had to wait at least a month for his shoulder to heal after the re-setting and even then would have to be careful. It was at times like these that Tommy wondered why he was still talking to Brendan.

The brothers had grown yet closer over the last few days and Tommy was now picking up his nieces from school so that Brendan could stay late and coach the new after-school MMA club. The pair had talked about Tommy coming in to do some demonstrations at the club but so far Tommy had postponed any trips until he was back in professional training. Brendan had fielded endless questions by the kids in his physics class about his younger brother's whereabouts in the months after Sparta and he knew the boys would enjoy meeting their idol.

Frank let Tommy head back to the changing rooms whilst he locked up the gym early for the night. Tonight was something of a special occasion for the gym owner, one of his best fighters, Marco Santos, was competing for a UFC title right in Pittsburgh. In honor of the event Frank had organized tickets for everybody and had let his fighters off their strict "no alcohol" rule for the night; it wouldn't hurt them to have a beer once in a while. Tommy emerged from the changing rooms in an unassuming black t-shirt and jeans, baseball cap already pulled low over his dark hair.

"Is Brendan coming tonight?" Frank asked, locking the office and starting towards the door.

"Nah, Rosie's sick so he's staying at home." Frank looked concerned. "Its just chicken pox, nothing too serious this time." The little girl had come down with chicken pox only the night before and was currently driving both her parents to distraction with her wails and constant scratching.

Frank started the car; he had offered to drive Tommy to the event since Tommy didn't have any means of transportation. Tommy in fact had no intention of buying a car any time soon as he had recently put most of his severance pay into leasing an apartment for the rest of the year. Brendan had helped him pick it out, searching through realtor's magazines in the evenings and discussing the various merits of furnished or unfurnished lets. Considering it was the first place Tommy had ever owned, and the first place he'd ever had to himself, he thought it was very respectable. A small, one room apartment, all open-plan with a mezzanine level for the bedroom, Brendan told him there wasn't room to swing a cat in the place but Tommy liked it for the view and the privacy. He was looking forward to moving out of Brendan's house as well, as much as he was grateful the Conlon family's generosity in letting him stay it would feel good to have his own place

As the two men approached the CONSOL Energy Center, where the competition would be taking place Frank started to look around for a place to park.

"Place is packed" he complained.

"Yeah, Pittsburgh really likes the UFC," replied Tommy, pointing out a parking spot to their left. The two of them got out of the car and started towards the stadium, Frank switched direction, heading away from the front entrance and around the side of the colossal building. "We're going the back way", he explained, holding up his pass to the security guard at the door. Tommy followed him through the maze of concrete hallways until they reached the locker room housing Marco Santos. The roar of the crowd was muffled by the concrete over their heads and it gave Tommy the strange feeling of being underwater. It reminded him of how he felt before getting into the cage in Sparta, disconnected from the world, alone, and waiting.

The lockers were crowded with men, all Frank's professional fighters had been invited to the event, and Marco was so well liked that everybody had come by to wish him good luck.

Frank crouched down beside Marco, and started prepping him, wrapping his knuckles and warming him up.

Tommy wandered over to Jay, Joe, and Chad, the trio had occupied one corner of the room and were chatting amicably, all taking advantage of Frank's relaxation of the "no alcohol" rule for the night. Jay offered Tommy a beer and he accepted, snapping back the top of the can.

"Have you placed any bets?" asked Jay swigging back his Carlsberg like a pro.

"Yeah, put five dollars on Santos to win his first round."

"Who's he up against?" asked Chad.

"Mad Dog Grimes." Grimaced Joe, "What an asshole."

"Just makes it even better when you put a beatin' on him." Said Tommy, grinning at the memory. He didn't really have anything against the mohawked fighter but the satisfaction of beating him sure was sweet, the man needed taking down a peg or two.

The crowd of well-wishers around Marco was starting to thin out, Frank was shooing people out of the changing room so he could start getting Marco focused for the challenge ahead. Tommy and the others gave the increasingly nervous-looking Marco a wave and a clap on the back before heading up into the stands. As they climbed the last staircase and headed into the stands the noise of the thousands of spectators washed over them like breaking waves. The men started edging along the rows of seats until they reached the ones closest to the ringside- reserved for the fighter's entourage. Within moments of them sitting down Jay offered another round of beers. They talked, drank, and people watched for the half-hour before the fights were due to start, Jay pointing out hot girls in the crowd. The place was filling up, the rumble of the crowd grew ever louder, and Tommy checked his watch, any moment now. As the time reached nine o'clock, the presenter, a local tv-personality, leapt up onto the podium and announced the fighters for the first round.

With a rumble of drums Mad Dog Grime's entry music started- Down with the Sickness by Disturbed. The fighter emerged from the tunnel surrounded by his entourage. Tommy noticed that he'd dyed his mohawk bright red and black stripes to match his sponsor's colors. They all booed enthusiastically, Chad shaking a fist at Mad Dog as he passed close by them to leap into the cage. Tommy caught Colt Boyd's eye and nodded at him as the trainer mounted the steps into the cage to prep Mad Dog he'd have to catch up with the old man sometime.

"We got good seats." Remarked Joe as they watched Mad dog warming up.

Marco's entry music, Beethoven, surged through the speakers and they turned to watch him make his way towards the cage. Unlike Mad Dog, Marco got terrible stage fright until he was safely in the cage and Frank was having a hard time keeping him calm as he half dragged him from the tunnel and within reach of thousand of adoring fans. It seemed that Marco was just as popular with the public as he was at the gym.

"Looks nervous." Murmured Chad, concern in his voice.

"Always does," replied Jay, "he's a complete pussy about the crowd but a beast in the cage."

"Better than the other way around I guess." said Tommy and the others nodded in agreement.

Once in the cage, they could see Marco's demeanor change, he straightened up, handed his hoodie to Frank, and returned Mad Dog's glare unflinchingly.

The commentators were making much of Mad Dog's return to form after his humiliating defeat in Sparta and this being Santos's first fight after a bad knee injury which had kept him out of the very same tournament. One thing they all seemed to agree on was that this would be a very close fight.

The two men met in the middle of the cage, both radiating aggression and trying to stare the other down. The referee had to separate them a little to keep the fight from starting early.

"Gentlemen, I want a clean fight, obey my commands at all times, defend yourselves at all times. Touch gloves, move back… _Fight_! "

The fighters exploded into action and the stadium shook as twenty thousand people leapt to their feet.

By the second round neither fighter had managed to find a significant hold over the other. They circled the cage like sharks in a tank, sometimes striking out at each other with lightning quickness. Mad Dog tackled Marco to the ground, locking him into a submission hold. Everyone in Marco's entourage jumped up to get a better look at the two fighters, now locked together. Marco wriggled like an eel but Mad Dog's hold tightened inexorably around his throat. He had him deep and Tommy could see Marco beginning to loose consciousness. Thankfully the bell rang for the end of the round and Marco was allowed to struggle woozily to his feet. He staggered to his corner of the cage and was immediately given water by Frank who started mopping at a nasty cut above his eye.

"It's getting serious in there." said Chad, shaking his head, he and the other men in Marco's entourage would have much preferred a quick fight, since his injury Marco wasn't as fit as he had been and everyone could see him starting to flag a little. Frank was giving a pep talk; eyes flashing with conviction and the dizzy fighter seemed to rally a little, his eyes focusing. As the bell rang for the start of the fourth round Marco leapt up to meet Mad Dog with a barrage of punches. Mad Dog went down with a kick to the chest, smacking against the side of the cage. Now the fight was even again, both men swaying with the effort of the bout, Mad Dog shaking his head as though to clear water out of his ears. Everybody leaned forward; on tenterhooks as the two rallied and lashed out again, Mad Dog dragging Marco down to the mat for another submission hold. This time however the returning fighter flipped him over and slammed him to the ground with a force that made the arena shake on its foundations. Mad Dog was out cold.

It was over and the crowd leapt to its feet again as an elated Frank vaulted into the cage and dragged Marco's arm into the air. The whole entourage followed the victorious fighter back down the tunnel for a victory celebration before the start of the next rounds. The hooting and hollering followed them all the way down to the dressing rooms where everybody milled about congratulating Marco and cracking open a few fresh cans of beer. Finally Frank shooed them all out again so that Marco could have his face stitched up in peace. The brawny fighter was smiling so hard that the nurse was already having a hard time working on his cuts.

Tommy left the others for a moment as they mounted the steps to get back to their ringside seats. He was glad for Marco, the man had worked his ass off to get back into shape after the injury that had kept him out of Sparta, and it was always nice to see Mad Dog Grimes beaten into the mat. He wandered down a hallway looking for a men's bathroom, he'd had one too many of Jay's beers.

As he rounded a corner he was surprised to see a group of girls, young women really, all dressed in tiny red shorts and crop tops. Just as he'd hoped to get past without them noticing him checking them out, a petite redhead marched right up to him, her hair clashing violently with her outfit.

"Excuse me mister, we're a little lost."

He looked her up and down, "yeah, I can see that-"

"We're looking for the athletes entrance… you know, the tunnel?"

"Uhh, yeah that's around the other side of the building, just keep on following this hallway until you get to the steps then, take a right."

"Thanks, that's really helpful- we're the half time show, don't wanna miss our slot." The girl smiled, flashing a set of very white teeth, and sped off with the rest of them. As Tommy stared back after the he realized that each girl was wearing fish-net tights, he grinned to himself as he continued on his way- he would to be sure to get back to his seat in time for the show.

Five minutes later and Tommy was ambling back to the stands. He'd taken a wrong turning somewhere in the labyrinth of corridors and was struggling to get his bearings. Up ahead he saw someone round the corner and hurrying towards him. It was a girl, dressed the same as the one's that had asked him for directions. As she neared him, he called out to her.

"You lost?" The girl jumped a bit, eyeing him up then smiled.

"Totally, and late."

"Half-time show?"

"Yeah." She nodded and grimaced- "I've got five minutes to get on stage and I have no idea where I'm going."

Tommy didn't want to admit that he was also completely lost so he told the girl to follow him. He glanced at her as they walked together in silence down the corridor. Her slippered feet didn't make any sound and she shadowed him like a ghost. He glanced back at her again, something about her seemed familiar.

"Say, do I know you from somewhere?" he asked.

"I dunno," the girl fixed her doe-brown eyes on his, studying his face; Tommy flushed under her scrutiny. "Maybe from somewhere- you live in Pittsburgh?"

"Yeah, work at a gym."

"Cool- like a boxing gym?"

"MMA."

"_Ooh_, so you're scoping out the competition here."

Tommy nodded "yeah, something like that."

Suddenly they turned a corner and Tommy could see the steps leading out to the Tunnel, a tight knot of fishnet-clad girls was waiting at the entrance.

"Wow, you really know your way around here!" exclaimed the girl, "Thanks for the help, I'm Katrina by the way." She stuck out a small hand for him to shake; up close he could see that her pretty face was covered in freckles.

"Tommy- good luck with your show."

"Uh uh- not good luck-"

"Break a leg, I know." Tommy quickly corrected himself.

"That's better, see you around Tommy." She flashed him a quick smile and sped off to join her friends. Tommy watched her go, not quite able to stop himself from checking out her ass as she went. Shaking his head he climbed the stairs in search of his seat. He was sure he knew that girl from somewhere- something about her seemed so familiar but he couldn't think what.

"What took you so long?" asked Jay as he settled into his seat.

"I was a rescuing damsel in distress," deadpanned Tommy.

"Ooh, a _lady_."

"Yep. One of them cheerleaders."

"Cheerleaders?" the others chorused, Tommy nodded towards the stage where the girls were filing out onto the raised dais, that held the cage. Their entrance set the crowd cheering again, this time mixed with lewd catcalls and wolf whistles.

After a moment of complete silence to let the anticipation build, music started- a high-speed mash-up of Katy Perry's "E.T." with a bas line to make your back teeth rattle.

"Hey, we know that girl!" Joe pointed to one of the dancers, almost spilling his beer in excitement.

"What girl?" the others chorused.

"The blonde one, look she's getting lifted up by the others."

"That girl?" asked Chad in disbelief. The girl in question was stretching her leg behind her head in a way that Tommy was sure was not as nature intended.

"Yeah, from the café."

"The ballerinas?" the others chorused again, squinting to get better look. Something clicked into place in Tommy's brain. Of course, the girl he'd helped out was the hot brunette with gorgeous lips and the blonde one was the girl Joe had talked to that one time.

"Wow," he said, "we should go out for lunch more often."

"Maybe we should go see the ballet more often." countered Jay, with a wide grin.

The dance ended with a loud car-crash sound and all the dancers tumbled onto the mat, the crowd cheered and whistled as the girls filed out of the stadium swinging their hips and swishing their hair.

The rest of the night was a blur to Tommy; fights came and went, he and the others drank their way through Jay's extensive beer cooler. Alcohol didn't usually go to Tommy's head, being mostly muscle did that much for him, but after his seventh beer he realized he'd had enough.

"Oh man this is going to be brutal." Said Chad, Rampage Jackson was squaring up to Marco Santos. The two men were getting in each other's face like pit bulls in a dogfight.

"hmmm?" replied Tommy distractedly, his head wasn't in the game, he was still stuck on that girl.

"You all right?" asked Jay.

"Yeah, yeah, how you think Santos goin' do against Rampage?"

"I dunno man- dude's a monster."

"Yeah…"

Jay looked at Tommy sharply, "I know that look man- you still thinkin' about that girl."

Tommy blushed, suddenly very interested in his shoes. "Who'd have though- hard man Tommy Riordan, hung up on a damsel in distress?"

"I'm not hung up on her- don' even know her." Tommy mumbled.

"You thinkin' about her though?"

"Y- no?"

"Oh come on, don't have to be a chick about it. How 'bout you get her number?"

"Her number?"

"Yeah- come on Romeo, you think she's gonna turn you down?"

"I bet five dollars that she does." cracked Joe, earning him a glare from Tommy.

"Yeah me too" piped up Chad, clapping Tommy on the back with a hand the size of a dinner plate - "It's about time you had some fun. Bet she runs the other way though."

"Okay okay, _challenge accepted_." He acquiesced with a sigh. "But if I win, that's five dollars from each of you." They all agreed and shook on it.

Tommy left the others in the parking lot, he had to take the night bus back to Monroeville, Frank lived in the opposite direction so he couldn't catch a lift.

"You sure you don't want a ride man?" asked Jay, leaning out of the window of his hulking SUV.

"Nah man, its cool- could use the time to think."

"About your girl?"

"Bout winning that bet." Tommy tried to rescue his street cred.

"Sure man whatever you say." Smirked Jay.

"Night Jay" replied Tommy with a wry smile.

The bus stop was crowded with people fresh from the fight, still rowdy and pumped up. Still, they left Tommy alone; with his baseball cap pulled low over his face he hopped to avoid recognition and his tattoos seemed to warn off most people. Tomorrow, he vowed visit his father; he'd put it of long enough. Images of the brown-eyed girl darting away from him to join her friends flashed through his mind. He smiled to himself- that was one bet he would make sure to win.

A/N

In this story I have used a line from one movie and one book (although the line in the book refers to a boy not a girl). First person to find either one or both of the lines gets a virtual gold star and preview into the next chapter.

Happy hunting!


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

**Chapter 10**

_February 7th_

Katrina packed her kit-bag extra carefully that morning, lucky scrunchie, lucky tights, thee pairs of pointes, best leotard. She took a few calming breaths. _Its just another audition Katy, you're only the junior soloist, there's no pressure…_ Her audition wasn't until ten and the waiting about in her empty apartment was killing her.Her thoughts drifted back to what Daniel Kline had said on her first day about seeing her "grow as a dancer" and about her job not being permanent. It was obvious he wanted to be impressed. That thought was enough to get Katrina heaving over the toiled brown for the third time that morning.

The last few days had been almost ridiculously stressful, but exciting at the same time. Her and Vlad's partnership had really gelled and they had the audition piece down pat, unfortunately so did everyone else- competition was going to be fierce. There had also been the matter of the half-time show they'd performed last night, the practices for that had left her dead on her feet for the last few days but, as Sonja had predicted, the pay was good. She'd been able to pay all her bills up front, her landlord gave her a very suspicious look when she paid him in cash.

As she locked up the house he though back on last night's performance, the roar of the crowd, the beat of the music, it was nice to dance without having a boss to impress, to do something that they'd all had a hand in choreographing. She smiled to herself, may have also been other perks of the job. The ruggedly handsome man who had guided her to the tunnel entrance when she'd gotten separated from her group was still at the forefront of her mind. His crooked smile, dark grey eyes, tattoos… _stop it Katy_ she remonstrated herself, realizing that she had spent a whole minute standing with her key in the lock.

Once safely the bus to work she let her mind wander again. She wondered if she'd ever get to meet Tommy again, he said he lived in Pittsburgh and worked in an MMA gym. She wondered if it would be weird to Google him, there couldn't be that many dedicated MMA gyms in Pittsburgh. No, she decided after a moment, that's _definitely_ weird.

The last time Katrina had had a relationship, a real one with promises and flowers sent on Valentine's Day she had been eighteen. Since then a sorry parade of men had straggled through her life most of them lasting only a night, some the whole weekend and once a whole winter. It was the job she reasoned to herself, late nights, antisocial hours, cracked toenails, strict diets, most men got tired of her pretty quickly. Also, sharing an apartment with Casey hadn't helped; Casey's bedroom eyes and long blonde hair drew men's gaze like moths to the flame. Katrina had realized early on that there was only so long a man was going to stick around if there was a "better deal" down the hall. She huffed audibly, she had bigger fish to fry today. Today she had an audition to rock.

Getting out at her stop, Katrina noticed a crowd of dancers milling around the entrance to the studio. Vlad was amongst them and Katrina tapped him on the shoulder in greeting.

"Hi"

"Hey" Vlad ran a hand over his close-cropped hair, up close he looked ill.

"Are you okay?" she asked, steering him through the entrance to the studio.

"Yeah…" he answered vaguely, not looing at her.

Katrina squared her shoulders and planted herself in his way as he tried to wander off to the men's locker rooms. "What is it Vlad? What's with you today?"

He looked at her, surprised "Didn't you hear the news?" she was about to speak when he cut her off "Of course not otherwise you wouldn't be asking… anyway, Lauren arrived with Daniel Kline this morning- got out of his car. Its so obvious that they're together or something… anyway, some of the dancers have said that they're not going to audition at all."

"Sonja?"

"Yeah" he shook his head.

"Wow… I'll talk to her, maybe me and Danni can bring her around."

"Maybe, I just don't want her to leave - you know how emotional she gets, might do something she regrets…"

"Yeah I understand, we'll talk to her. But you- get ready for this audition. We're rocking it yeah?"

"Yeah. Rocking it." Vlad managed a half smile at Katrina's pep talk and turned down the hallway.

Katrina found Danni in the changing rooms smoothing down Sonja who was near purple with rage. Neither noticed when Katrina came and sat next to them. She let Danni finish the "don't throw your career away for nothing" speech she was giving, nodding in all the right moments and making approving sounds when Danni hit upon a particularly good point. Katrina felt selfish even admitting it to herself but she couldn't help but be annoyed with Sonja. Couldn't she just keep her problems to herself, just this once? Why did she have to go causing trouble on audition day, disrupting everyone else's preparation just so that she could have her temper tantrum? She took a deep breath and turned to Sonja with a smile.

"Do you really want to let Lauren win?" she asked.

Sonja starred at her, tears clinging to her eyelashes "she's already won Katy, that's what's so unfair."

"No, she hasn't won, if you really want that role you have to be prepared to go and _get_ it. Play dirty- just like she does."

"Play dirty?" asked Sonja and Danni together in synchrony.

"Yeah. Go out there, rock your audition with Trev, and then… go and talk to Daniel, voice your concerns like an adult. And don't be afraid to dress up a little"

"What do you mean?"

"I _mean_, Daniel is a lady's man, he likes to think that we fancy him. So, flatter his ego… you never know where it might get you."

"Ego, okay…" murmured Sonja, wiping ruined makeup off her face and fixing her bun. "Okay. Thanks guys."

"You ready?" asked Danni, noticing Katrina packing up to go.

"Yeah" she replied with a false smile, her insides felt as if they were in a blender, "My number is almost up."

"Ooh don't say that, its bad luck!" gasped Danni, crossing herself. "I'll say a Hail Mary for you while you're in there." Katrina smiled at her to show thanks and nodded to Sonja who was reapplying makeup with a determined zeal and seemed not to notice.

Nearing the soloist studio's entrance, Katrina saw that her number was indeed nearly up and she hastened to stretch and warm up, cursing herself for being late out of the house that morning and cursing Sonja's amateur dramatics all the more.

Minutes passed, the shivering string music of the audition dance poured from the speakers again and again as pair after pair of dancers took to the stage. Fully warmed up, Katrina sought Vlad in the crowd. He was leaning against a far wall in deep conversation with Mark. As she approached Vlad's eyes snapped up to meet hers.

"How did it go?" he asked.

"It was fine, she's dancing, but Lauren would do well to avoid her. Where is she by the way?"

"I don't know, no one's seen her but she should be here soon, She's dancing with Mark."

"Oh, right." They lapsed into silence, watching the dancers though the glass pane in the studio door. Lacy and her partner Oliver were performing the duet with a fluidity and passion that spoke of Lacy's modern dance experience and Oliver's obvious crush on her.

"They're making a splash," noted Mark cricking his neck.

"Yeah, its pretty saucy." Smiled Katrina, stretching out her back at the barre, they didn't have long now, only a few more couples to go. Vlad had hurried off to talk to Sonja who had just come in, her make-up reapplied to perfection and game-face firmly on.

Mark continued to watch Lacy and Oliver until the end of their routine, whilst Katrina began the task of wrapping up her toes and ankles. The familiar routine reminded her of the fighters from last night. She could imagine them waiting in their own dressing rooms, taping up sore knuckles, psyching themselves up to meet an opponent. The whole team had stayed to watch the fight, the larger fighter, _Rampage Jackson_, slowly wearing down the other man until finally catching him in a chokehold that offered no escape. The brutality of the sport hadn't shocked Katrina as much a people's obvious enjoyment at such brutality, simulated violence wasn't really for her, she'd experienced enough of the real thing to last a lifetime.

Images of the man from last night swam momentarily before her eyes, a crooked smile, tattoos etched onto sculpted arms… _I obviously need a boyfriend, this fantasizing is getting out of hand_, she thought to herself, shaking her head to clear it of any further thoughts of muscle-bound men.

Vlad reappeared in front of her, and offered her and hand to help her up.

"Its time" he said, voice a little shaky.

"Okay. Let's go." She replied, none to steady herself.

As they entered the room, Katrina's field of vision seemed to narrow, blotting out the people ranged along the walls of the studio. For a moment she could see Daniel and Dorian and Madame B at a table against the far wall and then everything was dark and still. It took a moment after the music had started to realize that she had not yet shut her eyes. She did so in the heartbeat before Vlad touched her hand and the dance began. Dancing with your eyes shut is not like dancing in the light, your partner is not another person to be accommodated, and the music is not another entity separate from yourself. All parts of the dance have the same origin, and the same impetus, Katrina barely heard the music but she felt it deep within her, suddenly she wasn't acting a part but experiencing the real thing. She felt Vlad's hands under her back and let herself bend, as though in an enchanted sleep, almost to the floor. Her muscled engaging and disengaging to hold a pose one moment and flop lifelessly the next. As the music quivered to its climax and Sleeping Beauty awoke from her slumber Katrina leapt into Vlad's outstretched arms and in that moment she imagined them to be the arms of her handsome stranger.

It was over, the shivering string music fading from the speakers. Daniel and the rest clapped politely from their table, Katrina's vision had cleared enough to see them, color slowly refilling her world. Vlad, ever the gentleman, opened the door of the studio and ushered her out.

"What did you think?" He asked her.

"I should be asking you, I've ha my eyes shut they whole time" she joked, giggling nervously. Behind them Sonja and Trev were entering the studio, she waved encouragingly and Sonja nodded back.

"I think it went okay, you were really good, rocked the acting and you told me that was your weakest bit." Vlad was saying.

"Yeah, I think it went okay as well… we really have to hang around here all day to wait for the results?"

"Yeah, no class, just auditions for today." He replied, running a hand though his buzz-cut.

"Okay, I might go for a walk or something…" she realized that Vlad was looking at her closely, almost expectantly. "You were awesome by the way, great lifts."

"Thanks" his expression cleared.

They went their separate ways both promising to be back for four when the roles would be announced. Vlad went back to the studio where Sonja was coming out of her audition, Katrina didn't stick around to see how it had gone. She was feeling selfish again, rushing off without stopping to talk to her best friend, she vowed to make up for it later; maybe she'd bring Sonja a coffee or something, just to lift her spirits. By the time she'd made it back in to the changing rooms she was chastising herself again; _stop being pathetic Katy! What would Casey say if she saw you acting like a little doormat, pull yourself together and get changed without having some kind of guilt complex about it. _

She huffed to herself, pulling off her tights and inspecting herself in on of the dressing room's many mirrors. Her thighs were looking a little bigger than normal; she twisted around to get a view from the back. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted someone sitting on the far side of the dressing room, behind the lockers, fear, surely irrational, rippled over her skin.

"Who's there?" she asked, trying to sound brave.

No one answered but she was sure that she'd seen someone sitting there. Abandoning her search for thigh fat she tiptoed over and peaked into the recess behind the lockers. It was Lauren, the girl glared back at her like a cornered ally cat.

"What?" she asked.

"Are you umm … okay?" ventured Katrina.

"I'm fine." Lauren replied, her argument was made somewhat less strong by the recent tear-tracks outlined in mascara down her cheeks.

"Really?" Katrina didn't mean to sound skeptical but it must have sounded like that to Lauren because suddenly the girl rounded on her, enraged.

"Come to laugh at the slutty girl have you?" she hissed.

"What? No!" Karina backed up a few paces at the venom in Lauren's voice.

"Sure. Everyone's been looking toady, trying to find out why I came to work in Daniel's car- peering in the windows of his office like they're going to snap pictures of us having sex. Disgusting." She collapsed back onto the bench, all the fight drained out of her.

"And are they going to find what they're looking for?" Katrina asked, too curious to be quiet.

Lauren looked her up and down for a moment. "We're in love. He says he _loves_ me." Her chin lifted, eyes flashing.

"Well that's good… are you going to audition today?" Katrina tried to steer the conversation into safer waters.

"I will, with Mark." Lauren sighed. "Its going to be perfect… I could be Snow White." She looked Katrina dead in the eye, "I just want people to believe that I _earned_ it."

"Well… the only way to do that, is to earn it. People will see." Lauren looked skeptical, "People _will_ see, even Sonja." Lauren nodded, her eyes a little bright then headed into the bathroom where Katrina heard the sound of the faucet running. She turned back to the mirrors and began to pull off her tights, folding them up and pulling on her street clothes. Lauren reentered the dressing room just as she was at the door, the girl offered her the smallest of smiles and Katrina returned it.

Katrina looked at her watch; she still had hours to kill. The auditions went on until late in the afternoon, every dancer getting a shot at the roles of nymphs, dryads and royalty. She decided to sit herself down for another coffee.

It was strange being out in the city all alone, usually Danni, Sonja or someone would tag along, on their days off the other dancers had been inducting Katrina into the wonders of Pittsburgh culture, they'd been to a number of many of the clubs and bars; "blowing off steam" Mark called it. But today everyone was too wound up and stressed out to be good company, no doubt Vlad and Sonja would be either bickering or making out. Danni tried to put on a brave face but Katrina had seen her coming out of her audition as she left the studios and she was pretty sure the girl was on the verge of tears. It was better to wait alone for the news, no good them all sitting around speculating over the decision and picking apart their performances. The hours slipped by as she wandered from shop to shop, distractedly looking at clothes and shoes, frustrating shop-keepers by trying everything on and buying nothing. Eventually she headed for the bus stop to take her back to Liberty Avenue, heart already starting to race.

By the time Katrina reached the doors of the studios her pulse was throwing its self against her skin, the pressure starting to build up behind her eyes. She stopped for a moment, breathing in the fresh February air, calming herself before pushing open the doors and entering. The first thing she noticed was a huge crowd of dancers around the receptionist. Mrs. Lawrence was looking more harassed than usual, her red lips pursing.

"No. For the last time, the list goes up when it goes up, and not before four o'clock! So now shoo, scat, _go away_!" She swatted at the people nearest with a stapler and the dancers scattered before they could be further verbally abused. Katrina followed the crowd, giving the receptionist's desk a wide berth.

The clock ticked slowly down to four, the dressing room was silent although packed with people. Most girls were feigning nonchalance, texting boyfriends, or painting their nails. Katrina however had spotted Danni sniffling in a corner and wordlessly joined Sonja in handing her tissues and rubbing her back. According to Sonja she'd been crying ever since she'd left her audition. Dorian Toulouse, the visiting choreographer had started laughing half way though as she'd fluffed a jump, after that the whole thing was just a lost cause. Poor Danni's French-flag manicured hands were still shaking.

Someone poked their head around the door, from her position at the back Katrina could just make out a mass of dark, curly hair. It was Lacy, her normally tanned skin almost milk-white.

"It's up!" she stage whispered and then vanished back around the door to avoid being trampled by the hoards of dancers.

"Should we go?" Sonja asked the others, hanging back from jointing the crowd of girls fighting to get into the hallway.

"Sure." Said Danni, a resigned look upon her face, "I may as well see just how bad the damage is…"

"I can't believe he actually laughed in your audition." Katrina said as they joined the back of the line for the door. "I mean, that's _rude_."

"It sure is" agreed Sonja.

Because this production of Snow White relied so heavily on a small cast of main dancers it had been decided that two dancers would be cast in every main role, each cast performing on alternate nights. This offered everyone a double shot at the best roles. As the nervous trio approached the list pinned to the wall outside the director's office they ran headlong into a seething mass of people; some celebrating, some commiserating and all in the way. Vlad was near the front and reached back to pull Sonja and the others through the mass of people. Being so much smaller than most people Katrina had to hang on tightly to Danni's arm to avoid being swept away in the crush. Before Katrina had even got a chance to glimpse the list it's self Danni threw herself into her arms with a sob before dashing off weeping openly. _Christ almighty! _Thought Katrina, as she dove through the crowd again hoping for a better look. And then she saw it.

_Katrina Christensen- The Deer (1) (Snow White alternate 2)_

_Whoa._ Katrina spent a long minute rooted to the spot with shock. A solo and an alternate role? A huge grin spread spread its self over her face. Before fighting her way back thorough the throngs of dancers she took a moment to scan the list for familiar names, she was ashamed to say that she still didn't know the names of everyone in the company. There, Mark was one of the two Princes, Katrina knew he and Lauren had had a stunning audition. A tidal shift in the crowd pushed Katrina off her prime spot and she found herself on the outskirts of the group. She didn't wait to talk to anyone else, keen to keep this moment of joy all to herself. She waltzed off down the corridor, feet barely touching the ground, she had her own solo and an alternate role for the main part! Katrina was under no illusion that she would actually get to dance Snow White in front of an audience _but_, one could dream.

Dark was gathering on the way to the bus stop soon it would be night, eager not to be out too long after dark, Katrina hurried home, not stopping to talk to anyone outside the dance center. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted Lauren getting into a dark sedan an expression of triumph on her usually impassive face.

It was fully dusk by the time Katrina arrived home, few people were about on the streets but the thumping baseline of a house-party reverberated though the night air from one of the apartment blocks. She enjoyed the short walk from the bus stop, down the long Oakland Avenue, shaded with trees. The air was chilly, clouds of steam rising in front of her as she breathed.

As she came within view of her apartment building Katrina saw a car pulled up outside, someone had been unpacking boxes onto the street. _Maybe they're moving in_ she though idly, pulling out her keychain as she approached.

The car pulled away, leaving the lone person with their boxes on the side of the road. He stepped under a streetlamp, the orange light leaching the color from his red _Tap out Crew_ t-shirt and all of a sudden, Katrina knew who he was.

"You want some help?" she asked masking her surprise and drawing level with the man who was struggling to open the front door with two boxes balanced in his hands.

"Sure" he replied gruffly, throwing her a cursory glance. He almost dropped both boxes on the double take. "Say, haven't I seen you before?" He looked at her properly now.

"From last night?" Katrina asked unlocking the door and standing aside to let him in. He didn't move.

"Yeah at the tournament." Tommy pointedly stood back to let her go first through the door and, getting the hint, she stepped inside.

"So you're Tommy?" she asked once they were both safely in the bright lights of the foyer.

"Yep. And you're Katrina, right?" Under the lights Katrina could see that the t-shirt he was wearing was several sizes too small for him, it hugged every inch of his torso as if it were painted on. She tried not to stare.

"And you're really moving in _here?_" she asked.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he asked, a slight quirk to his lips now.

"I just…can't hardly believe it. Weird coincidence right?"

"I guess it's a small world." Tommy said, pushing the lift call button.

"Very small." Katrina was tempted to pinch herself to make sure she was awake. She was afraid that the stress of the auditions might have kicked her already active imagination into overdrive. The pinch hurt, she was definitely not dreaming.

There was an awkward silence in the lift until the third floor where Tommy made to get out. On some crazy impulse Katrina reached out a hand to stop him.

"Is that all your stuff?" she asked. He looked at her, surprised.

"Yeah? Why?"

"Well how about you come up for a coffee- when you're done unpacking." She asked, trying to sound more confident than she felt.

He flashed her a lop-sided grin and stepped out of the lift. "What's your number?"

"37."

"I'll see you there."

Katrina fell onto the couch in a daze as she reached her own apartment but after sixty seconds of immobility she leapt up. Dashing up to her bedroom, such as it was, she stripped off her worn sweater and picked a burgundy camisole from the draws. Jamming that over her head she scurried back down the tiny staircase and into the bathroom. Good she looked a mess. She quickly brushed her hair, applied a slick of lip gloss and mascara before remembering that she hadn't brushed her teeth and having to apply the lip gloss all over again. Not that anything was going to happen, but it still had to be done.

After a once-over in the mirror she headed to her tiny kitchenette where she set to tidying with a fervor her mother would have been proud of.

Just as she'd managed to throw the last of the dirty dishes into the washing machine, someone knocked on the door and she jumped about a foot in the air.

_Be cool Katy_ she reminded herself as she took a calming breath. _He's just a guy… a hot guy… really hot guy… but _just _a guy. _With one last deep breath she unlocked the safety chain and opened the door.

A/N Sorry for the wait guys, this chapter was sooo hard to write but in the end I had to stop obsessing over it and just post it, so here it is, hope you like it!


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I own nothing

**Chapter 11**

February 7th

Tommy awoke with resolve firmly in place. Today he would visit his father and Brendan would go with him. It was strange, he thought to him self as he shaved in the mirror, that the bombs and bullets of Afghanistan scared him less than going back to the house he'd grown up in.

His nightmares were as constant as ever, although he was better at hiding them, he no longer cried out in his sleep and when he woke in the dead of night, he forced himself to remain still and silent. Tommy didn't suppose the dreams would ever stop, the images of his friends bleeding out in the sand were as fresh in his mind as the day it had happened. All the same, the broken nights were catching up to him, dark circles etching themselves deeper under his eyes.

By the time he was dressed the rest of the house was waking up, he could hear Emily and Rosie bickering as they got ready for school and Tess scolding one of them gently. Tommy almost smiled to himself; he would miss the sounds of family life when he moved out even if Tess's voice sometimes was sometimes so like his mother's that it brought a lump to his throat.

There had been plenty of those moments, and Tommy could see now how a sixteen year old Brendan would chose to stay behind to be with a girl like that. Tess's presence softened the blow of loosing his mother, and his father also. Tommy could see himself being jelous of that, having that constant person in your life- somebody to trust. He wondered if he'd ever find a girl like that, someone to take the pain away.

There had been plenty of women in Tommy's life; he had needs after all like any man and was charming enough when he wanted to be. Some girls were drawn to the damage, had been since high-school where he was a quiet, intense loner. No friends but some girls just couldn't help themselves, he hadn't treated them well- fear of cruelty making him cruel himself. Once, a girl had tried to stop him as he got out of bed, putting his clothes on as soon as they were finished. She'd tried to be kind, hanging around him at school, helping him with homework, never asked for anything she was younger, inexperienced. Tommy knew when he was taking advantage.

He could have loved her, given her the things she deserved, he didn't. The guilt only hit him as he walked away. He was like his father wasn't he? He'd stayed out all night not able to face his mother and her illness. When Monday rolled around he'd he found he couldn't face the girl either, so he dropped out of school.

Since then it he'd ben all about the physical, no feelings just sex, or so he hoped. Manny had tried to set him up with a few of Pilar's friends, all very pretty but he never really took an interest. He wasn't cut out for a relationship, all that sensitive stuff. _You're no good at it, and you don't need it_ he told himself firmly, getting up and going down for breakfast.

All his things were packed up for him to go to his new apartment. Brendan had made him go to Costco to buy some crockery and bedding for his new place. Now he had some boxes as well as his duffle bag, it was a first for him.

Tess was staying home today, looking after Rosie whose chicken pox was still in full swing. As Tommy came into the kitchen he saw her and Rosie sitting together at the table, Brendan and Emily must have already left for school.

"Good morning" said Tess brightly.

"Morning." Tommy returned putting some bread into the toaster. "How you feelin' Rosie?"

"Itchy and scratchy." The little girl replied grumpily, she held up her hands to show him how they were now incased in mittens. Tommy laughed and Rosie stuck her tongue out at him.

"Are you going in to see your dad today with Brendan?" asked Tess, joining him in the kitchen for a fresh cup of tea.

"Bren tell you about that? Yeah, we are, It's about time I guess."

"Well I hope it goes ok." She said her eyes full of concern.

"Thanks." He said quietly. He knew that caring about everyone and everything was only part of Tess's nature, but sometimes she came too close, looked too close. Tommy had to fight down the habitual anger that he threw against anyone who dared show him compassion, push down the walls that threatened to rise up against her. One day he'd get that all under control he told himself.

"You're moving into your flat today?" asked Tess, putting some dishes into the sink.

Tommy nodded in place of a response.

"We'll miss you around here, you have to promise to visit yeah?" she looked at him seriously. It was nice, Tommy thought, she meant that genuinely.

"I will, definitely."

"Good." She smiled and left him to his breakfast.

Rosie finished her cereal, complaining all the time about the lack of Lucky Charms in the house, apparently all the cool kids in first grade had them for breakfast then took the marshmallows in to school for break. Tess was having none of it and Rosie had to suffer on with All Bran or Weetabix.

"One day you'll thank me for this" intoned Tess as the two climbed up the stairs so that Rosie could go back to bed. Tommy watched them go, finishing his toast in solitude.

As she reached the top of the stairs Rosie suddenly turned and sprinted back down. To Tommy's great surprise she threw her chubby arms around his knees.

"Miss you uncle Tommy!" she told him, giving him a gap-toothed smile.

Tommy leant down and picked up the little girl, ruffling her curly blonde hair. "I'll miss you too Rosie, now you be good y'hear?" he set her down and let her run off back to bed. Tess caught his eye with a smile.

Tess was letting Tommy borrow her car as she was staying home with Rosie so the commute in to Frank's gym was quick. Tommy fiddled with the radio, switching to a local DJ who was talking about last night's fights and the CONSOL Energy Center. It was a shame about Marco loosing, the man had tried his hardest but coming back from an injury in the end he was no match for the brute force that was Rampage Jackson. Marco had made it into the third round, putting up a good fight but everyone could see he was the under dog. Eventually Jackson got him deep in a chokehold until he tapped.

_Oh well_, Tommy thought to himself, _at least he beat Mad Dog._ Watching the fights had reminded him exactly what he was missing during his recovery. His desire to fight again burned somewhere deep in his chest, to Tommy fighting had long been his only means of expression. It was his only safety valve against the anger that had pulsed and coiled under his skin since before he could remember, the anger that, when unleashed, turned him into someone he didn't recognize.

Going to the tournament had been fun for Tommy, it was a long time since he'd been able to hang out and have a drink with friends. He hadn't had anyone to hang out with since Manny died, nor the inclination. He hadn't always been a loner, the men he'd known in the Marines had been closer to him than brothers, he wasn't sure that he'd ever have friends like that again. Their deaths had changed him, hardened him to the world.

He fiddled with the radio again, narrowly avoiding being blindsided by a car crossing lanes. The thought of seeing his Pop again was making him nervous whether he liked to admit it or not. Having Brendan with him was going to be weird too, his brother had been so adamant for so long that he would never speak to his father in person again. And now, he was willing to let go of that to go with Tommy.

The brothers hadn't spoken about it, the Conlon family habit of silence prevented it but Tommy knew Brendan was feeling at least as bad as he was. His brother had rushed out of the house like it was on fire that morning if the sounds in the kitchen were any indication, no doubt wanting the distraction of his job.

Work was slow, Tommy was too uptight about seeing his father that evening to be much conversation. Jay was on his day off- apparently spending the day in bed with a girl he'd picked up last night after the tournament if Chad was to be believed. The place was mostly empty today- Frank was in his office talking to sponsors so Tommy waived at him through the window.

Frank had finally let Tommy off desk duty, they'd agreed that it wasn't exactly his strong suit. Instead he had Tommy in full time training- rebuilding the strength he'd lost in the past six months and getting back the range of mobility in his shoulder. Without the prescription of painkillers given to him by the doctor Tommy could still feel he bones grinding against each other as he lifted weights. He welcomed the pain; it helped to keep him focused. It wasn't as if he had much choice, painkiller, mood stabilizers, anti-depression drugs- he'd been down that road before. After he'd deserted his unit in Afghanistan, still reeling from Manny's death he'd turned to pills to dull the pain, make him functional. He hadn't appreciated until months later just how dependent he'd become to them. Not until Pop had forced him to give them up so he could train again. the withdrawal symptoms hadn't been so severe that he couldn't hide them but the sweating, shivering nights up in his old bedroom had been enough to convince him never to touch the stuff again.

Days like today though, he wished he still had some codeine in his jacket. It was about four when Tommy spotted his brother entering the gym, he caught his eye and then went straight for the showers to get cleaned up. Dread pooled in the pit of his stomach at the thought of going back to that house, maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. _Stop being a pussy_ he told himself, standing up heading for the car.

It was dark in the house, all the blinds drawn down. Pop lead them into the sitting room where he collapsed back into his easy chair, bloodshot eyes peering at them through the gloom. Brendan was looking around, examining old family photos he hadn't seen for twenty years. Tommy on the other hand couldn't tear his eyes from his father. This was a shadow of the man who had trained him for Sparta. The dad Tommy had known from six months ago had been as fit and strong as an aging ex-alcaholic could be expected to be, he'd taken care of his car, his house and, although Tommy hated to admit it, his son. Now, that man was gone. In his place was the father of their childhood nightmares.

He reeked of sweat and stale liquor; his clothes, obviously slept in. As Brendan switched on the overhead light, Tommy could see that his father's eyes were red as the devil, bloodshot and struggling to make them out. He came closer, kneeling at the man's feet.

"Hey Pop, how've you been?" he asked quietly. His father looked sharply down at him.

"Fine Tommy. Been wonderin' when my boy was gonna come see me." Tommy threw a glace over his shoulder at Brendan who didn't react to their father's choice of the singular.

"I'm here Pop. I'm back. You been takin' care of yourself? Been going to the AA?" Tommy hated to hear himself ask. Why should he care if the old man was going to his damn meetings? Anger, undirected at anyone in particular, rose in his chest. He pushed it down.

"I ain't been goin' any more Tommy. It's no good, I ain't sick, just tired. I had one thousand days sober before Atlantic City, ain't had one since. Don't want one neither." With a shaking hand the old man reached under his seat for a hidden bottle, raising it to his lips he took a deep pull. Smiling absently, he offered it to Tommy who shook his head.

"What's the matter? I'm just tryin' to show you a little hospitality."

"I'm fine."

"What'sa matter?" Pop's voice rose, the color rising in his bristled cheeks. "Too good for it? Or do you only take those damn pills now?" Brendan looked up sharply from the other side of the room.

"I'm not takin' no pills Pop." Replied Tommy evenly, standing up away from his father. He was fighting the urge to be sick, so strong was the smell of filth clinging to the man.

Brenan took Tommy's place in the small circle of light thrown by Pop's reading lamp. Their father's face broke in to a smile, the lines and crags lifting somewhat.

"Brendan, my boy. You here too?"

"Yeah Pop, I'm here. I'm here to get you some help, we think you need it. Get you back into the AA?" Tommy looked sharply at Brendan, trying to warn him off the topic, but the damage had been done. Pop bristled visibly, fingers clenching around the whisky bottle.

"Get out. " he growled, Brendan didn't move, Tommy had to hand it to him, the man had balls. "Get out!" their father roared, spit flying. With a crash the whisky bottle smashed against the nearest wall, staining the pale wallpaper and splattering family photographs. No one in the room flinched. Pop deflated somewhat. "Brendan, you can't… you can't. I'm your _father_." The pleading voice that Tommy had grown to so despise was back but this time their father wasn't begging for forgiveness.

The two younger men looked at each other for a long moment, the only sound in the room was the ticking of the old grandfather clock in the hallway. All of a sudden, Tommy began to feel claustrophobic. The weight of their shared and painful past in this house pressing down on him, smothering him. Without another word he stood up and left slamming the front door behind him. Sitting down on the steps he watched his breath cloud in front of him. It was just like the night when he first returned to Pittsburgh, waiting with a bottle of whiskey for his father to come home. It had been as cold that night as it was now and he'd almost given up before he saw the old sedan wending its way down the street. The car was up on blocks now, a dustsheet covering the paint.

"Fuck" Tommy swore out loud. The anger he'd been denying himself was burning in him now- he'd never wanted to hit someone or something so badly. He clenched his fists until they hurt, forcing himself to stay sitting and silent. Still, Tommy knew that the rage he felt now towards his father was the easy part- the guilt would come later, would leach into his bones like an acid. This was, after all his fault. The old man was doing fine without him- going to meetings, trying to make things right with Brendan and Tess. That was until Tommy ruined all of that for him- destroying everything he'd worked to rebuild. No wonder he couldn't stay sober now.

Light spilled onto the porch behind him as Brendan stepped outside and sat down. Neither man said a word for a long moment. Tommy looked over to see that Brendan's eyes were very bright.

"You alright?" it took him a moment to bring himself to ask the question.

Brendan took a deep breath before answering. "Yeah, just give me a minute." They sat in silence once more.

"What are we gonna do?" asked Tommy when Brendan seemed more recovered.

"I dunno. We don't _have_ to do anything." Tommy raised his eyebrows, he'd never thought of his brother as hard-hearted.

"Okay, we do have to do something. We can put him in rehab- there are some residential programs."

"He won't thank us for it."

"Not right now, no." the knowledge of their father's anger seemed not to phase Brendan, which made Tommy wonder how bad things had been after he and mom left. Brendan was always the one who idolized pop, never seemed to blame him for what he did. But, Tommy wasn't ready to ask, and Brendan wasn't ready to tell.

"Okay, lets go," said Brendan after a long moment. Neither man looked back towards the house as they got into the car but Tommy could swear he felt his father's gaze on his back.

It was a quiet drive back to Monroeville and Brendan's house. Tommy stared out of the window, purposely avoiding his brother's gaze, hoping also to avoid any conversation. The guilt, long anticipated had settled like a mantle over his shoulders. The sight of his father's bloodshot eyes boring into his, the smell of stale whiskey and unwashed clothes clung to him. It was a while before he realized that his hands were still clenched into the fists he'd made on the porch. His fingers were stiff as they uncurled. The anger was gone now, dissipated and directionless but the weight of the guilt more than took its place. This was his fault of course, pushing the old man to have a drink again and again. Six months ago the sight of his father drunk, ill and helpless would have given Tommy and intense sense of satisfaction, it would have been just what he deserved. Now, this long-sought victory didn't bring any pleasure, especially knowing that Brendan would shoulder this new responsibility for the both of them.

"You got everything you need for the new apartment?" asked Brendan, breaking the quiet.

"Yeah. It's all in the back." Replied Tommy glancing over at Brendan at last. The other man was still slightly pale but his grip on the steering wheel was steady. Tommy felt a bit sorry for his brother, being dragged back into their uncomfortable family history despite the fact that it was the last thing he'd wanted. Now Brendan's moral conscience would demand that he look after the father he'd grown to despise, provide for the man who'd made his life a misery and left scars on him that even Tommy didn't know about.

"I'd better get back to Tess once I drop you off." Said Brendan, pulling onto Oakland Avenue at last. The sun had just dropped behind the rows of skyscrapers in the distance and dusk was falling. A party was going on in one of the apartment blocks, the heavy bass music rattling the windows of the car.

"Its okay, I don't have more stuff than I can carry up myself." Tommy replied. Neither man wanted to stay long in the company of the other. The knowledge of their father's situation was wedged uncomfortably present but impossible to broach.

Brendan nodded and parked under a streetlamp. He didn't get out as Tommy opened the trunk and removed his two boxes and duffle bag or clothes. Tommy wondered if deep down Brendan didn't blame him for their father's relapse just as much as Tommy blamed himself.

Brendan rolled down the driver's side window and leaned out to say goodbye. "Tommy. We'll figure something out okay?" Tommy nodded wordlessly. "How about you come to dinner on Sunday night?" Brendan ventured, "The girls are going to be missing you…" Tommy smiled, touched.

"Yeah, I'd like that- need to sort myself out a car one of these days."

"Yeah, then you can drive the girls to school for me."

"Well I don't know about _that_, but I will visit."

"I'm glad. Gonna miss having my little brother around." Brendan smiled. "You take care okay?"

"You too" said Tommy, "thanks for the lift." Later, in a matter of months, maybe a year the brothers would have hugged goodbye but not tonight.

Tommy gathered his boxes into his hands, slinging the duffle bag over his shoulder. It was going to be a long night- as pleased as he was to have his own apartment, Tommy wasn't looking forward to the solitude as much as he thought he would. The thought of living entirely on his own, the quiet, the privacy- he hadn't thought about the loneliness, it hadn't occurred to him that he would have anyone left to miss.

Tommy's hearing, honed by years in Afghanistan, only caught her footsteps moments before she stepped into the pool of light by the apartment doors. Jumping slightly at the sound, his key slipped out of the lock.

"You want some help?" the girl asked from somewhere on his right.

"Sure." Tommy glanced at her as she fished in her handbag, sleek brunette hair, doe-brown eyes. Where had he seen that before, he whipped around to look at her properly, so fast he almost dropped his boxes.

"Say, haven't I seen you before?" He tried to be cool as she unlocked the door, seemed like he might win that bet sooner than he thought.

"From last night?" the girl, Katrina, he remembered, stood back to let him in.

"Yeah, at the tournament." The image of her in the tiny red shorts and fishnets swam in front of his eyes. It took Tommy a moment to realize that the girl wanted him to go through the door first, he stood back deliberately- Ma had taught him better manners than that. As the girl stepped into the lobby, Tommy had to stop himself from checking out her ass again, three times before knowing her last name seemed ungentlemanly.

In the lights of the lobby he could see the girl looking at him intently if he didn't know better he would say she was checking him out- he felt his ego swell up.

"So you're Tommy?" she asked.

"Yep. And you're Katrina, right?" she was even prettier than he remembered, without all the stage make-up on.

"And you're really moving in _here?_"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he felt himself start to smile.

The girl moved towards the lift, swinging her long dark hair over one shoulder. She was saying something about coincidences, Tommy found himself more interested in the sway of her hips.

"I guess it's a small world" he supplied, in answer to her question. The lift was tiny- Tommy, feeling totally off his game had nothing to say and silence fell between the two. He racked his brains for a way to ask for her number without coming over too strong, and drew a blank.

The lift doors opened for the third floor, Tommy's floor. He was about to get out, ticking himself off for missing an oppertunity, when the girl reached out as if to hold him back. He turned.

"Is that all your stuff?" she asked. That wasn't the question he'd been expecting.

"Yeah? Why?"

"Well how about you come up for a coffee- when you're done unpacking." She caught his eye, then flushed it suited her.

He smiled, "What's your number?"

"37."

"I'll see you there." As the doors closed Tommy allowed a wolfish grin to break out over his face. Jay and the others be dammed, lady luck was on his side for this one.

Unlocking the door to his new apartment, Tommy ventured inside. It was small, all one room really with a mezzanine level bedroom and a big window overlooking the street. To give himself something else to think about than coffee with Katrina, Tommy set to quickly and efficiently unpacking his boxes. First went the sheets into the cupboard, then the single set of plates, cutlery and glasses into the kitchen. He made his bed, put his clothes in the closet and contemplated changing out of his ratty t-shirt. Girls could always tell if you'd made an effort to look good for them- not wanting to give anything away, he decided against it instead washing his hands briefly. He passed, back and forth around the living room, such as it was. Tommy didn't want to be early and look keen, but he didn't want to keep her waiting either. The suspense was killing him, patience was never his strong point.

Unable to take it any longer he gathered up his keys and headed upstairs to 37.

She opened the door almost as soon as he'd finished knocking. As soon as he saw her he wished he'd changed his shirt. The red top she was wearing glowed against the smooth skin of her bare shoulders, chasing most coherent thought out of his mind. Tommy forcibly pulled himself back together, it had been way too long since he and Manny would pick up girls in bars.

"Hey." He ventured, his voice very rough.

"Come in." she replied.

Her apartment was just like his in proportions except that it faced the opposite side of the building, facing across the rooftops into central Pittsburgh. It was warm in the apartment, warm in the way he was sure his could never be, a lived-in feeling that put him at ease.

"So…" the girl started, leading him towards the kitchenette, She brushed aside his offer of help with the coffee and steered him towards a stool. "Its ok, I can manage."

He sat, watching her quietly as she gathered things, hands quick and light.

"So…" she ventured again, "where did you just move from?"

"Was stayin' at my brother's house before now."

"That's nice," said Katrina from over by the sink. "so you're from the area?"

"You could say that." Tommy realized that he was being unnecessary cryptic, "I was away a long time."

"And now you've come home."

"Yeah, I guess I have."

"It's never the same as when you left is it." said Katrina, stirring sugar into one mug, the kettle was starting to steam.

"I dunno about that, sometimes its like nothing's changed at all." She nodded, to show she understood.

"And you're a fighter?" she asked, pouring out the water.

"Yeah, I had an injury though but I'm back in training now."

"So I might see you in the ring sometime- here" she pushed a steaming mug towards him.

"Thanks," Tommy wasn't really much of a coffee drinker but if it kept him up all night tonight, he'd be happy. "So what do you do when you're not dancing at the CONSOL center?"

She laughed, "I'm a ballet dancer with the Pittsburgh company."

"Really?" so Chad was right then.

"Yeah, I just started there a few weeks ago actually."

"So you're new to the 'burgh?"

"Pretty much, lived in Chicago before this so it's not too much different."

"Chicago… never been."

"Well, its nothing like the musical. I moved there to got to the ballet school when I was _eight_ and then danced in the company when I graduated." Tommy's eyebrows rose.

"You started at eight? Seems kinda young to be away from home."

"I guess, my mom lives in Maine, on one of the islands, there's no school there or _anything_ really so she was happy I didn't have to be homeschooled," If Tommy had been anyone else he might have asked about her father, as it stood, he didn't. "What about you, said you've been away from Pittsburgh for a while?"

He nodded, not saying anything for a moment, choosing his words carefully.

"I was in the military- did a couple of tours before getting into fighting."

"Wow, military," she took a gulp of coffee, seemingly about to say something- Tommy got the feeling she was going to ask why he left and was about to cut her off.

"When'd you get your tattoo?" she asked, tilting her head to the side the get a better look.

"This one?" he pointed out the dark tribal markings on his right arm.

"Yeah- it's a lot of ink for one guy."

"I got others."

"Seriously?"

Unconsciously he lifted up his shirt a little to show her the masks on his chest and the words across his abdomen. "You weren't kidding" she stepped closer, coming to his side of the bench. Tommy felt heat rushing to the surface of his skin, wondering what her hands would feel like on his chest. He dropped his shirt and reached for his coffee.

"You got any ink?"

She shook her head, "Scared of needles, I don't know what I'd get anyway."

"That's smart- I got my first one at sixteen, no real meaning behind it" he gestured to the tribal tattoo, "kinda regret it now."

"I dunno, think it looks pretty cool." Katrina said, catching his eye. "sounds like you were a bit more of a badass teenager than me- my major rebellion was dying my hair blonde., nothing so permanent."

He laughed, Christ, he didn't think he would be laughing today, but here it was, right in a cute girl's kitchen. "Can't imagine you as a blonde."

"Don't, it was horrible." She giggled. "the principal of my school made me get a _boy's_ haircut so it would grow out faster."

"Seriously?" it was his turn to be surprised.

"Yup. It was _so_ embarrassing."

They'd both finished their coffee and Katrina offered him another which he accepted. It was strange- half an hour ago he'd felt the weight of the world pressing down on him, but now, well, this girl was a good distraction from all that.

They finished their second cups in relative silence, Tommy guessed that she'd had a long day by the look of the dark circles under her eyes. She yawned. "Sorry."

"All that coffee not doing you any good?"

"Its decaf."

"Decaf? What's the point of that?"

"Well I'm not going to ply you with caffeine at this time of night am I?"

"'Spose not… _decaf_… do you have a cell phone?"

She looked at him, thrown by the change of topic.

"Yeah… doesn't everyone?"

"yeah I guess so… anyway, what's your number" he didn't mean to blurt it out like that- maybe he should have planned something smoother to say.

"Umm…" she tipped her handbag over the table looking for her phone. "Here, the number's on the screen." He took it, their fingers brushing ever so slightly.

"I'll have to take you out for a real coffee sometime." He said, handing the phone back. She blushed again, Tommy had the feeling he was too.

"I'd like that,"

"Yeah me too" _of course you do or you wouldn't have suggested it idiot! _Tommy mentally berated himself.

"I umm, should probably go, its getting late." He set his mug down. "Thanks for the coffee Katrina"

"You're welcome," she showed him out, he hesitated a split second at the doorway. Would any other man kiss her on the cheek goodbye? He was close enough to do it, tantalizingly close. He decided against it, bidding her goodnight gruffly.

"Bye" she replied softly, smiling. The image of her in the doorway would haunt his dreams that night, chasing away thoughts of his father's house.

A/N sorry about the wait guys! Hope you like it- this chapter was so hard to write so any comments/ critique would be very welcome xx


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I own nothing

**Chapter 12**

_February 8__th_

Katrina pulled her jacket tighter around herself- the bitter wind was starting to bite that morning and her fingers were going numb in their mittens. She was sitting on the steps of the dance studios re-reading a text. It had arrived whilst she was on the bus, her loud ring-tone prompting the pensioner next to her to give her a truly disapproving look. It had been so crowded on the bus that morning that she couldn't even reach her handbag to pries her phone out of it so she'd had to wait. The text was from Tommy, debunking all the myths that men never called you when they said they would.

_Hey Kat,_

_it's Tommy here's my number_

_Have a good day._

It made her feel all funny inside when she read it and she kept grinning to herself like a complete idiot. It wasn't exactly the most romantic of messages, no kiss, no declaration of undying love… maybe she was getting ahead of herself? She flipped the phone shut and went reluctantly in to work.

Katrina walked into the soloist's dressing room and was at once struck by the uncharacteristic silence. Everyone was getting dressed very diligently and quietly, looking no one else in the eye. Rounding the corner of the lockers Katrina froze. The "WHORE" was emblazoned on Lauren's locker- in blood red lipstick. Lauren herself was nowhere to be seen but her bag was sitting on the bench, some of the stuff spilling onto the floor. Katrina picked up what had spilt and placed it back inside. She caught Sonja's eye- the redhead shook her head and placed a finger to her lips.

Five minutes later, just as Katrina was putting her hair up into a bun, the door flew open, banging off its hinges and making her jump-spilling bobby pins everywhere. Lauren stalked in, her eyes red-rimmed and cheeks blotchy with crying. She glared accusingly around the room before snatching up her bag and stalking out.

_What in the name of God is going on?_ Katrina wondered. She dragged Sonja into the loos with her so they could finally talk.

"What happened?" she asked, avidly.

"Well you saw her locker didn't you?" Katrina nodded. "Lauren went crazy, literally, I've never seen anything like it. You know she got snow white?"

"_Really_? Not surprising though, she's an amazing dancer…" Katrina kicked herself for not checking the cast list properly.

"Well now she's claiming she's being bullied- just can't handle people knowing she screwed her way to the top." Scorn laced Sonja's voice.

"Oh I don't know Soni, I think she worked hard to get where she is."

Sonja jumped down from the counter where she'd been sitting, "believe what you want- you shouldn't be so trusting Katy." She headed for the door, leaving Katrina alone and feeling vaguely guilty, both for arguing back to Sonja and for not sticking up for Lauren. _Doormat alert_, her conscience warned her and for once she had the good sense to listen, squaring her shoulder and going into class with head held high.

Her inner serenity didn't last long. Madame B had her practicing balances for her deer's solo. Up on tiptoe with the other foot behind her head, Katrina's knees began to shake and the older lady pursed her lips. "Again" she ordered and Katrina restarted the sequence, transitioning through the agonizingly slow pattern of movement. Inner peace was the key to this- an empty mind made the balancing easier just like yoga. Unfortunately Madame B's baleful stare was making unwanted thoughts whizz around her mind like a swarm of hornets. She stumbled and tripped into the next pose. "I've seen enough." Declared the ballet mistress, throwing her hands up in despair, "go and practice on your own!"

Grateful not to have been hit with a slipper, Katrina scuttled for the door where she went slap into Lauren coming in the opposite direction. The blond girl glared at her before pushing past into the studio almost slamming the door on Katrina's fingers. _Christ no wonder everyone hates her_ thought Katrina, heading to an empty studio for some more practice. Settling her self in, she fished the CD for her solo out of her handbag. Digging deeper she found her phone, flipping it open and reading Tommy's message again. Tentatively she began to text back.

_Hi Tommy, _

_Thanks for the text _

_How about that coffee?_

She read it and shook her head- coming on too strong. Starting from scratch, she wrote-

_Hey Tommy_

_Liking your new flat?_

_The area's not great but_

_the neighbors are fantastic_

_K_

This sounded better, so with a quick prayer she hit send.

Katrina stuck on the music and got up to practice but before the first bar had run though her phone chirped, sending her scuttling back to check it.

_The flat's great but I don't_

_know about the neighbors_

_Decaf?_

She blushed to the roots of her hair clutching the phone to her chest- immensely flattered that he'd messaged back so quickly.

Not wanting to come off needy she set her phone to one side and put the music back to the beginning.

It was hard to focus when all she could think about was what to say back. Should she remind him that he said he would buy her a drink? Should she ask how his day was? Should she play it cool and not say anything at all? The music ended and she realized that she was standing on the wrong leg, facing the wrong way. _Concentrate! _Katrina chided herself, looking hurriedly at the windows to make sure no one was watching.

Ok try again. The music started and she raised herself up on tiptoe leaning and reaching and tipping to the left but before she could complete the next step, inspiration struck. Abandoning the dance she leapt back to her phone-texting at lightning speed.

_Well maybe you should show _

_me how it's done?_

Stopping to reread it she grinned to herself, perfect. She wouldn't send it yet. The music was almost over and Katrina was feeling foolish- like a little girl with her first crush. Putting the phone firmly back in her bag and burying it under a pair of tights she applied herself to practicing with renewed zeal until lunchtime.

"Katy!" someone was running up behind her as Katrina exited the studios for lunch hour. She turned, nearly sliding backwards off the icy steps. "Woah there" Sonja caught her hand just in time.

"Thanks." Said Katrina, stepping safely away from the stairs.

"You dropped your phone by the way." Sonja's eyes were sparkling mischievously. She held it out but as Katrina reached for it she whipped it away. "Who is Tommy?" she asked, phone behind her back.

"Give it Sonja!" Cried Katrina, trying to reach around her friend but Sonja laughed and danced out of reach.

"Who is he?" she asked again.

Katrina briefly buried her face in her hands; she'd never hear the end of this one. "Do you remember the guy who showed me where to go when I got lost on Saturday?"

"Yeah? The hot one with the muscles?" Sonja was now so curious that she didn't notice Katrina's fingers inching toward the phone until she whipped it out of her grasp and scampered down the steps. Sonja gave a squawk of temper and set of after her in hot pursuit.

"Tell me tell me tell me!" she cried as they raced down the icy street. Katrina, having the longer legs pulled away from her but, as they slowed down Sonja caught her arm. She was strong for someone so small.

"Alright alright." Conceded Katrina. "So _Tommy_, who is gorgeous by the way, is now my next door neighbor!"

"He's stalking you?" asked Sonja.

"That's what I thought at first but actually it's just the world's hugest coincidence, way weird right?"

"Weird _good_ though."

"Weird _amazing_. Except that I'm gonna have to wear full makeup when I'm at home just in case he knocks on the door."

Sonja laughed, breath solidifying like a cloud in the freezing air, the temperature had fallen again and flakes of snow where lazily drifting down.

"I feel like we should be doing the nutcracker again with this snow." sighed Katrina, snow always reminded of the rare Christmases at home.

"I'd probably get cast as a rat." Replied Sonja, somewhat dourly. She'd been cast as an evil queen for the forthcoming production. Privately, Katrina thought it was just the part for her, not that Sonja was complaining, next to Snow White it was one of the best roles. The group had done well in general; Mark was a prince opposite Lauren, Vlad was a satyr and totally psyched at the possibility of furry trousers. Danni on the other hand had only managed the most basic of background roles and had reportedly been caught crying the bathrooms between classes.

They were almost at the café when Sonja spoke again. "So are you and Tommy… you know…"

"you know- what?"

"you _know_… doing it… and by _it_ I mean sex."

"uh thanks for that clarification… no, I don't think he fancies me."

Sonja raised her blue eyes to heaven. "Oh Katy, is he _gay_?"

"not that I could tell…?"

"Then he fancies you." Sonja said with finality, opening the door of the café and darting into the warmth.

"How can you know that, you haven't seen this guy up close, I bet he has women coming out of his ears- _groupies._"

"Groupies?" asked Sonja as the slid into the booth, she snuggled up close to Vlad. "Do you mean like he's _someone_?"

"Everybody's someone Soni." Replied Katrina, pretending to peruse the menu, she didn't want the rest of the group interrogating her too- especially as she hadn't sent that text yet. Nothing was on a firm footing.

"But… do you mean he's like famous? A _fighter_?" asked Sonja loudly as though she'd just heard Katrina's thoughts and as deliberately sending her up.

"Well I don't know about famous, but he's a fighter yes." By now the whole table was hanging on her words, Danni's fork was suspended half way to her lips.

"What's all this?" asked Mark, amusement sparking in his cat-like eyes.

"The world's most gorgeous man has moved into Katrina's apartment block." Gushed Sonja, Vlad frowned at her.

"Okay, second most gorgeous." Mark pretended to pout. "Alright, alright, third best then- but still a knockout. And that's funny because he's a fighter and has _groupies_!"

"I never said he actually had groupies, I was just speculating!" interjected Katrina, feeling her ears go red.

"Never mind, I'm sure he does." Chuckled Mark, "even _I _have groupies- have to keep passing them off to friends."

The table burst into laughter- earning them a few looks from builders and auto shop workers massed at the bar.

Katrina's good mood carried her for the rest of the day, not even much dented when she sent her text after lunch and didn't hear back. She floated back to the studios and got on with stretching and warming up her muscles of the evening class- technique and conditioning with Daniel Kline and Madame B. This was the one everyone dreaded. Madame B pushed the dancers to and past their limits in an effort to impress Daniel and the dancers in turn wrung every drop of energy from their already tired bodies in an effort to shine. Katrina had taken to saying a quick prayer before each of these classes- asking God to protect her from making a fool of herself; as though God had anything to do with her petty concerns.

Today however, her hands strayed from their rosary beads and into her handbag to check her phone. It was as though God really was watching over her, she had one new message.

_How do you feel about _

_Irish coffee- tonight._

Dirty thoughts about Irish cream cropped up in Katrina's mind, she could practically see his crooked smile on the other side of the line. How was she supposed to concentrate in class now? Her rosary winked accusingly at her in the dressing room lights. Muttering a Hail Mary as she pulled her hair into a bun, Katrina left the dressing room. This class was going to be the longest of her life.

Much later, after broken toes, after tantrums that shook the studio windows, after Madame B walking out and much impassioned Latin argument, class was over.

Katrina slouched at the back of the bus on the way home, legs crossed on the seat, head resting against the window. She'd pushed herself hard and was already starting to feel her muscles cramp in the tight space. The bus was almost empty, only a few elderly women sat in the rows ahead. She stretched, clicking her knees loudly, flexing her back. Everything ached but in a good way, the ache of hard work, all the same a coffee would do her good.

Pushing open the door to her apartment she bustled inside, dumping her dance bag on the floor and heading into the shower. Soothing her aching muscles under the hot water, she wondered what she should wear to see Tommy. The man slightly unnerved her with his magnetic good looks and intense gaze. Her eyes were always drawn to him wherever he stood, whenever he moved with that strange grace for a man so large and strong.

She dithered over what to wear before realizing she was being silly, this wasn't a date. She firmly put back the pretty pink lip-gloss she was about to put on and reached for a cardigan to put on over her blue strappy top. Putting her thick, dark hair up into a ponytail and putting blusher onto her pale cheeks. She stopped in front of the mirror again; pulling out the pony tail she piled her hair up on top of her head. Satisfied, Katrina made to go. _Not a date_ she reminded herself, _just coffee with a hot guy…_

_Really hot guy…_

Reaching Tommy's she knocked softly for a second all was quiet, maybe he wasn't home. Then the door opened and there he was, Tommy had obviously just got in from work he was still in tracksuit and t-shirt.

"Hello." he said, voice gruff, moving aside so that his bulk didn't block the door.

"Hi" Katrina slipped by him into the flat. It was a typical bachelor's pad, no decoration other than two framed photographs on the mantelpiece. Tommy hovered behind her as Katrina looked about; he hadn't been lying about those two boxes being all he was moving in with, all the shelves that in Katrina's flat were stuffed with photos, mementos and farewell cards, were bare.

"Coming?" Tommy led her into the kitchen where the kettle was boiling, a bottle of whiskey stood, mostly empty beside two mugs. Katrina settled on a stool at the table, Tommy busied himself at the kettle. The silence between them stretched, oddly comfortable for two people who were virtual strangers. Tommy flexed his shoulders, straining against his slightly too small t-shirt, Katrina's stomach flipped over.

Tommy pushed a mug of coffee at her across the counter. "Here"

"Thanks" she took a sip and nearly choked- "Tommy! This is err…" she coughed, "strong." The corners of his mouth twitched.

"Too much whiskey?" he asked.

She giggled, alcohol warming her chest and burning down her throat right down to her toes. "I dunno, I kinda like it." she took another tentative sip and nodded in agreement.

"Just what the doctor ordered" said Tommy, raising his own mug in a toast.

They settled on the couch facing each other, Katrina sitting Indian style with a cushion on her lap.

"So, how was your day?" she asked, not sure of the etiquette for non-date conversation.

"Was alright." Tommy nodded thinking for a moment. "Been in the gym today, been sparring for the first time in a while…" he took a swig of coffee. Katrina could see the bruises forming along his knuckles.

"That's exciting, so you actually fight for a living?" she asked in wonderment, "Don't you ever worry about getting hurt?" She felt stupid of asking but Tommy didn't seem to mind, in fact he laughed, somewhat bitterly.

"Already been hurt, dislocated my shoulder last time I was in the cage. Been recovering ever since." He patted the offending limb fondly. "I guess it don't bother me any more." Katrina nodded to show she understood, taking another gulp of Tommy's lethal coffee. She felt her throat burn as it went down but that was nothing to the burn must have felt as his shoulder popped out of the socket. She suppressed wince at the thought.

Alcohol working in her blood she told him about her day, auditions, class, the gossip at the studios, being chased down the street by Sonja. Somewhere along the way Tommy admitted that he'd never been to the ballet.

"No surprises there." She laughed.

"Well you never know, I could be a real sensitive guy" he flashed her one of his rare, crooked smiles.

"Sure, and I might secretly be into weightlifting" Katrina countered, she got a laugh with that one.

"Do you want to go somewhere?" Tommy asked suddenly, Katrina realized that his mug was empty.

"Where?"

"I dunno, out for a walk?" Tommy's knee was bouncing now.

"It's snowing! And minus a million degrees out there!"

"You can borrow a jacket." Not going to take no for an answer Tommy was already up and moving.

"Okay, wait." Katrina drained her coffee.

"You okay to walk after that?" he asked concerned as she swayed a little on standing.

"I'll be alright, its not like they can charge us with _S_UI."

"What?" Tommy looked stumped,

"Strolling under the influence."

"Oh-" the crooked smile was back- Katrina felt it was a bit of an achievement to pries it out of him.

Tommy lent her a big black fleece that reached almost to her knees like a dress when she zipped it up. Donning a black skull cap and jacket he made to leave, holding the door open for her.

"You look like a burglar." Katrina noted as Tommy locked up.

"And you look like a twelve year old," he countered, "are all ballerinas this short?"

"I'm not _that_ short. I'm tall enough for the New York and Paris companies- grew an inch in my final year at school and that saved me, I'd have been too small otherwise."

"So you can be too short? What happens then?" asked Tommy out of curiosity.

"I dunno, it's harder to find a job I guess, there are rules about how you have too look."

"Sounds a bit of a shit job. If you've got a talent that's what matters." He said bluntly, ushering her down the stairs.

"No worse than getting beat up for a living though." He nodded in agreement. The cold them like a slap in the face as they stepped out of the front doors and Tommy steered her across the street and off into the night.

Looking back the next morning, Katrina couldn't be sure of exactly what they talked about. The events were slightly blurred in her hangover-fogged brain. The pair had wandered down town through the quiet streets. All the normal sounds of the city slightly muted by the fresh fallen snow and lowering clouds. After the initial shock, the whiskey and the bulk of the man beside her kept Katrina warm. She had vague recollections of strolling through a silent park, laughing about something, she did most of the talking but about what she couldn't remember.

One thing however did stick out in her mind, as she lay tangled in her sheets the next morning throat dry and eyes itchy. She'd asked him about his family, tired of talking about herself. For a moment Tommy's eyes were almost black in the hash orange glow of the streetlamps. He was a silent a long time, the only sound being the tramp of their footsteps on the fresh snow.

"My father and brother live here in the 'Burgh… my mom's dead, long time ago."

"I'm sorry to hear it." Katrina said, giving him space to continue.

"This wasn't such a great place to grow up…" Tommy looked away from her, out into the gloom. "Mom and I left the old man behind, then she got cancer." He sighed, plowing on. "After she died I joined the Corps, barely waited for the funeral." She looked up at him and he caught the sympathy in her expression. "I don't want pity." He said shortly, " There ain't nothin' will change what happened but me n' Bren are on good terms now." Katrina took that to be the brother, Tommy's eyes softened slightly as he mentioned him.

"And your dad?" she asked tentatively.

"Not worth talking about." Tommy hunched his shoulders against the cold.

They didn't speak much on the way back, the dark of the night was broken only by the streetlamps and their dull reflection off the snow, a diffuse, soft glow of light.

Katrina knew that Tommy hadn't told her the whole story about his family, she didn't blame him, they were almost strangers after all. She hadn't told him everything either. She remembered Casey chiding her about keeping secrets in school _"secrets don't make friends Katy"_ was what she'd always said.

Glancing at Tommy next to her, his eyes staring far ahead into the darkness, looking across at her every now and when he thought she wouldn't notice, she wanted to know him, wanted him to know her even, secrets and all. What was the best way around this man's armor? Katrina knew the walls around Tommy's heart were as strong as Fort Knox, she knew men like that. _He's just your neighbor_ her inner voice reminded her, _emotional healing is off the cards._

Tommy walked her to her door and waited as she slipped off the fleece and handed it to him.

"Thanks for the coffee, I'll sleep well tonight."

"Me too, it was nice to see you..." Katrina could swear he was blushing. _As if_ an inner voice brought her down to earth.

"See you soon?" she asked, feeling a fool.

He nodded wordlessly, his gaze never leaving hers, then he reached down and squeezed her hand briefly, his warm hand dwarfed hers totally enclosing it. This close Katrina could feel the heat coming off him like a furnace. Before her heart had time to skip a beat Tommy turned and headed off towards the stairs. Katrina tingled where he'd touched her a glow in her chest burning like she'd swallowed a whole vat of whiskey.

A/N Sorry for the wait guys! I've been away (excuses excuses!) anyway I hope you can forgive me xx


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I own nothing

**Chapter 13**

_February 8__th_

It was early morning, Frank's gym was still quiet, but for the grunting efforts of the true fanatics who turned up to hone their bodies before most people were even out of their beds. Tommy padded quietly across the carpeted gym floor and into the locker rooms, choosing a bench close to the back. He started to change out of his street clothes into board shorts and a wife beater, stopping occasionally to stretch the stiff muscles in his neck and arms.

Used to the atmosphere of a military base he didn't usually mind the crowded, noisy gym full of frat boys and "hard" men, today however he was glad that it was mostly empty- mornings were his time to think, to train in peace before Frank needed him to work in the office or on the front desk.

This morning he had more to think about than usual. His very distracting neighbor for instance; the girl flitted through his dreams and kept him awake for hours at a time. He knew it was stupid, letting some girl he didn't even know under his skin but there she was, he'd even got half-made plans to see her again. She wasn't his type, he usually went for leggy, busty, blondes with low morals to match his own "las putas" Manny used to call them. Nevertheless, the knowledge that she wanted to see him again had been the biggest boost to his ego since beating Mad Dog Grimes into the mat at Colt's gym. He smiled slightly to himself, he'd even won his bet. With this happy thought Tommy made his way into the main body of the gym to train.

Anyone watching Tommy that morning would have detected a bit of extra swagger in his step as he stalked towards the weights. He sat down on the bench-press nearest the wall, looking around at the other men. This was an old army habit, he hated to feel exposed and having the wall on one side of him was almost like someone having your back.

Jay and the others hadn't arrived, usually they congregated around the bench presses, betting on who could lift the most, larking about and making a nuisance of themselves. The place was strangely quiet even for this early in the morning- the scrape of the bar as Tommy lifted it seemed to echo around the warehouse. He counted lifts in his head, anything to block out the burn in his shoulders and arms, and the sneaking suspicion that he was being watched.

Fame did not suit Tommy Conlon well, he avoided crowded spaces at the best of times and didn't appreciate strangers coming up to him on the street. Usually it was just well-meaning kids wanting an autograph or to ask about Brendan, he never knew what to tell them about his brother and always ended up being much blunter than he'd intended, rude even. Occasionally people would get aggressive, trying to square up against him, he always set them straight. It was the lack of anonymity he hated- before Sparta he was nobody, a deserter from the army, a blank spot on the map; now he felt like someone had trained a spotlight onto him, he had that constant creeping feeling of being watched. He knew this was mostly paranoia but it didn't stop him wearing a hoodie most places that he went.

The doors banged open and Jay hurried inside, rubbing his gloved hands together to ward off the chill winds of the morning. He waved at Tommy before disappearing into the locker rooms. Tommy thought of the bet they'd made at the fights the other night- he hoped Jay remembered to bring his wallet to work. He wondered how his neighbor was doing, was she up yet?

He set the weights back on the bar, sitting up and cricking his neck- Frank had been upping his workload like a slave driver recently. He reached into the pocket of his hoodie and drew out his cellphone, a beat-up Nokia that had seen better days. He had Katrina's number already programmed in, he started to compose a text. What the hell was he supposed to say? His fingers, already too large for the Nokia's tiny keys became clumsier still in his indecision. With a sigh he deleted the text- seven in the morning was probably too early for that sort of thing anyway. All the same, he should probably work out what he wanted to say, a little planning never hurt.

Not being hugely communicative or prone to making friends, Tommy had only ever owned one other mobile phone, his mates in the Marines ganged up and bought him one for his twenty first birthday saying that he needed dragging into the twenty first centaury. Tommy lost that phone the day he lost every one of his friends to the desert in that rain of fire and heat.

Unbidden the image of Manny coughing out Pilar's name along with his last breath came to his mind, the cloying heat of midday in Basra Province and the smell of burning flesh. His hands jerked suddenly as though trying to catch hold of Manny's jacket one last time, the phone clattering to the floor.

Someone laid a hand on his shoulder and Tommy's head snapped up.

"You okay?" It was Frank, he handed Tommy back the phone. Tommy nodded wordlessly, half his mind still lost in the past.

"Sure? You looked a million miles away there." Frank continued, adding more weight to Tommy's bench press bar.

"I'm fine." Tommy said roughly.

"Okay, have a go with this." He gestured to the weights and Tommy lay back, taking them up with a grimace.

"You're killin' me here Frank" he said, starting the set with difficulty.

"Gotta get you up to strength if you're gonna be sparring again soon." Frank answered with a slight smile.

"How soon?" asked Tommy, lifting the bar again, feeling his muscles burn in protest.

"How about today? You can go against Niko at twelve- get you back in the game." Tommy nearly dropped the bar.

"Seriously?"

"Would I lie to you man?" asked Frank with a grin, he obviously liked dishing out good news.

Tommy said nothing but his nod was enough.

The morning passed without incident, Tommy did his morning's training, pumping iron endlessly before catching up with Jay by the punching bags, the pair only made it five minutes before Jay got it out of him about Katrina.

"She's yo' neighbor man?" the big fighter asked, stopping dead mid-punch.

"Yup." Replied Tommy turning back to the bag.

"And you got her number?" asked Jay.

"Yup."

"And?" Jay let the question hang in the air until Tommy stopped punching his bag and fixed him with such a dead-pan look that he almost didn't ask again. "And?"

"And… nothing."

"you haven't called her?"

"Nope."

Jay reached into Tommy's pocket and pressed the phone into his hand. "Well that's gotta change- I did not bet five dollars on this for you to screw it up first chance you get."

"Oh come on, what am I gonna say to her anyway?" Tommy felt the heat rise into his cheeks.

Jay shrugged his massive shoulders, "I dunno- just tell her this is your number, no big deal."

"Yeah, no big deal."

Tommy began laboriously to text- his fingers were much too large for the keys and every second letter was a mistake. Finaly he re-read the message;

_Hey, _

_This is my number_

_Tommy_

He was about to press send when Jay put a hand out to stop him, Tommy reluctantly handed over the phone, _this is like fuckin' high school all over again_ he thought mutinously. Jay sighed, tuning to him. "Do you like this girl?"

Tommy looked at him blankly, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, _do you want to sleep with her?_" Jay sounded like he was explaining algebra to a five year old.

"Yeah?" Tommy replied, non-plussed and frankly a little pissed off.

"Then write somthin' nice for love of God!"

"Nice?"

Jay sighed again "you ever date a girl before?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm gonna take that to mean no."

"But-"

"Just say, _have a nice day_. Simple." Tommy nodded, typing it in with difficulty.

It took a good half hour for Tommy to convince Jay that he wasn't still a virgin. By the time they'd finished with the punching bags, worked on the tread mill, warmed down, and were heading to the locker rooms for a break Tommy was pretty sure that putting a beating on his friend might just be the quickest and easiest way to make his point.

Suddenly his phone rang, digging it out of his sweats he saw that it was a text from Katrina, Jay tried to read it over his shoulder until Tommy hit him with a towel.

_Hey Tommy_

_Liking your new flat?_

_The area's not great but_

_the neighbors are fantastic_

_K_

Tommy felt a stupid grin break out over his face, Jay wolf-whistled, smacking him on the back but Tommy said nothing, just sat down and applied himself to texting back.

When Tommy stepped out of the showers ten minutes later, the steam rising from his skin he found the locker rooms were full of people. The bulk of Frank's professional fighters were here along with a smattering of enthusiastic amateurs training over the lunch-break. Tommy dried off and pulled a t-shirt over his head, digging boxers and sweats from his bag. After dressing he checked his phone, the drop in his stomach when his inbox came up empty surprised him- why should he care if she didn't answer straight away? _Because then you know she doesn't like you as much as you like her,_ his conscience told him. He was feeling stupid again, Katrina was just some chick- there had been plenty like her and there would be plenty more in the future. That he didn't fully believe this worried Tommy, getting attached to women, especially ones he barely knew, was not a thing he did, not now and not ever. Scowling slightly, Tommy strode out of the locker rooms back into the main body of the gym. Abandoned in the bottom of his kit-bag, his phone chirped.

Frank was waiting for him as Tommy mounted the steps up to Ring One, it stood on a dais in the center of the warehouse. Niko, his sparring partner, was already there- diligently wrapping up his knuckles and strapping on sparring shields. Tommy squared his shoulders, taking the tape from Frank and wrapping up his own hands.

"So remember what we talked about, nice and slow right?" Frank was saying, the rushing of blood in Tommy's ears was drowning out the sound- it was always like this before a fight. Tommy nodded mutely to show he was listening and ducked under the rope to meet Niko.

Any fight in Frank's gym always attracted a lot of attention, the professional sparring sessions were usually attended by a small crowd of hangers-on and groupies. Frank tried to keep the place quiet but they always got in, it was common knowledge that Midnight sold tickets to his sparring sessions on the quiet. This session was no different- many men had set down their weights and abandoned their punching bags get a good view of Tommy _"soldier"_ Conlon's return to form.

Tommy stood in his corner, bouncing from foot to foot with anticipation- the ring was where he felt most at peace, only when he was fighting did he really feel in control.

As the bell rang and he and Niko touched gloves the sound of the surrounding crowd faded away and he let instinct take over. This turned out to be a mistake.

The stone in weight that Tommy had lost during his time with the Marines in the past six months was never more obvious than when he was matched against the man-mountain that was Niko Chambers, Frank's heaviest middle-weight fighter. Tommy was used to being the strongest man in the ring, to being the aggressor, setting the pace.

What Tommy was not prepared for was Niko picking him up chucking him across the ring like a rag doll, the back of his sparring helmet smacked hard into the ground and black spots clouded his vision for a moment. The next moment he was back up and swinging, going for Niko's legs with a quick kick that connected hard with the shin guards and sent the man sprawling, like many larger fighters, speed was not Niko's strong point. Not wanting to get pinned by his opponent, Tommy stood back and let him get to his feet before attacking again with a barrage of punches to his head-guard. Again, Niko's strength worked in his favor and he dragged Tommy down to the mat.

Tommy felt the other man's forearm bend his collarbone to the point of snapping. _What would Brendan do? _he wondered dimly, the black spots were back and the cheers of the spectators were starting to echo in the background. Copying a move he'd watched Brendan pull in Sparta, Tommy slid an arm under Niko's chest and used the pressure to flip himself up out of the hold. He staggered to his feet, black spot clearing from in front of his eyes and head back in the game. _Thanks Bren _he thought, laying Niko out with a vicious punch to the gut, the man reeled back against the ropes but rallied and Tommy had to duck quicly out of the way.

The bell rang and both fighters retreated to their corners, chests heaving with exertion.

"Move or die Tommy." Chuckled Frank, handing him some water, "You're gonna have to find another way to beat this guy, don't do the same things, I want to see you try a different thing."

Tommy nodded, handing back the water. "I gotta fight like Bren." He mumbled almost to himself.

"Thattaboy." Frank clapped him on the shoulder and sent him out into the ring.

The second round was just as brutal as the first, still wrapping his head around this new fighting style Tommy was dragged to the mat twice more, both times wriggling like an eel to free himself. He began to watch Niko more carefully, trying to pre-empt him, striking on the side he left exposed before backing off. Eventually he found his chance, the larger fighter threw Tommy to the mat for the third time but this time Tommy managed to twist around so that he had Niko in a headlock, he twisted again, pressing his elbow into the hollow of the man's throat, sweat was now dripping into his eyes. After half a minute of increasingly desperate thrashing, Niko tapped. Both men righted themselves, gasping for breath.

"Good fight." Rumbled Niko, offering Tommy a hand the size of a dinner plate.

"You too man." Tommy returned the handshake before ducking out of the ring. Most of the men were leaving the ringside now, bloodlust satisfied, Jay however remained.

"Brilliant! You were killin' it out there!" he whooped, punching Tommy in the arm. Tommy grinned, spitting out his mouth-guard and undoing his helmet. "So, you going pro now?" asked Jay, helping Tommy un-tape his hands.

"Yeah, reckon so." Frank was bearing down on them so Jay left them to it, ambling back to his punching bag.

Frank punched Tommy on the shoulder in a friendly sort of a way.

"You were great- I like seeing a fighter who can think on his feet."

"So what now?" Tommy felt himself relax.

"Now you train, spar, we'll get you up to weight and into matches- if you're sure about trying Sparta again that is."

Tommy nodded wordlessly.

"Okay, then we need to have you back in the ring professionally in at least three months time- sooner would be better but I don't want to push it."

"Good. Great" Tommy cracked a smile which Frank returned.

"Get on then- warm down."

Suitably dismissed, Tommy left the ring the combined rush of the sparring session and knowing that Sparta was once again on the horizon making him almost giddy.

Tommy unwrapped the last of the tape from his hands and ran them under the cold tap- bruises were already forming across his knuckles after the sparring session. He rolled his shoulders, gratified that the pain was not too bad, Frank's exercises had obviously been working. The energy of the fight was still singing through his blood making the world seem brighter and sharper than before, he'd missed this.

He bent over the taps, intent on washing off some of the blood from a split lip. The adrenaline still numbing any pain but it would catch up with him eventually.

Straightening up, he caught sight of Niko on the far side the changing rooms; the man was inspecting a cut across his left eye.

"You alright?" Tommy asked.

"Yeah- I won't be sparring against you again in a hurry though." chuckled Niko in a deep bass voice.

Tommy left him to it, rummaging around in his kit bag for his towel. His phone clattered to the floor and he picked it up, cursing. His frown soon turned into a smile as he saw that Katrina had texted him back. Split lip forgotten, he opened her message.

_Well maybe you should show _

_me how it's done?_

He grinned, then winced, tasting blood.

By the time Tommy got home it was nearly dark outside. The beating he'd taken from Niko was starting to tell on him, the back of his head still throbbed from being thrown into the mat. He let himself in, dumping his kit bag on the floor. Having already showered and changed at the gym there wasn't much to do but wait for Katrina to turn up. He pulled a half-drunk bottle of whiskey from one of his mostly-empty cupboards and emptied a considerable amount of it into two mugs. He resisted having a few shots himself to calm his nerves.

Tommy looked around his flat, there wasn't much in it, just a few photographs on the mantelpiece and some crockery in the cupboards. He wished now that he'd never invited Katrina over to see it- the contrast between her warm homey apartment and his only threw his situation into greater relief.

Before he'd much time to brood over this, before he'd had time to put the kettle on or to rub _Deep Heat_ into the bruises forming across his ribs, someone knocked lightly on the door.

Tommy crossed the room and pulled it open, on the other side stood Katrina, hand raised to knock again. Tommy had nearly forgotten how pretty she was.

"Hello." He said, lamely.

"Hi." As Katrina slid past him into the flat Tommy caught the smell of her perfume- it reminded him of the flowery sent his mother used to wear on special occasions. For a moment he was catapulted back into the memory of his mother kissing both her sons goodbye before she went out to dinner with their father on their last anniversary together. The sent still clung to her the next day when Tommy and Brendan visited her in the hospital. Shaking his head slightly as though to clear it, Tommy started for the kitchen. Turning he saw that Katrina was intently looking around the flat, taking in the bare shelves and walls with those luminous deer's eyes of hers.

"Coming?" he asked.

They didn't speak again for several minutes. The silence wasn't awkward the way it was between he and Brendan, full of things unsaid, instead it was relaxed, just enjoying each other's company like old friends.

"Here" He passed her a drink and Katrina thanked him, then took a sip and almost spat it back out again. Tommy knew he'd been overgenerous with the whiskey out of nerves. Her cheeks went bright pink after the second sip- Tommy decided that it was his new favorite color.

They moved to the couch, Tommy knew his habit of fidgeting would turn into pacing if he stayed standing much longer. He noticed as they both settled down that Katrina was small enough to sit cross-legged without her knees going off the edge of the couch. The alcohol was starting to work on him, blurring the edges of everything, bringing him down off the high he'd been on since sparring at the gym. He told her about it, showed her the fresh bruises on his hands and was surprised by the concern flashing across her face.

"Don't you ever worry about getting hurt?" she asked, eyes full of worry. Tommy was momentarily stumped- did he? As far as he was concerned if a fighter was worried about getting hurt then he wasn't in the game. Sparring was all the preparation you needed to know what you were getting yourself in for.

He told her about his injury in Sparta, leaving out the part where his brother had been his opponent, he wasn't ready to talk about that yet. Something in his voice must have come across to Katrina because suddenly, and to Tommy's relief, she changed the subject. He listened as she filled him in on her day, nodding here and there to show he was paying attention. In truth he was enjoying watching her lips while she was talking.

Ballet was something his mother liked, it seemed like another world to Tommy. He remarked to Katrina that he'd never been.

"No surprises there." She giggled.

Tommy had to defend himself from that one "Well you never know, I could be a real sensitive guy" he smiled at the thought.

"Sure, and I might secretly be into weightlifting" Katrina raised her skinny arms in a mock-heroic pose. Tommy laughed and she laughed along with him.

Tommy glanced out of one of the mullioned windows and realized that it was snowing heavily outside. All of a sudden he had the urge to be outside and moving.

"Do you want to go somewhere?" he asked. It took a bit of convincing to persuade Katrina that she wouldn't freeze to death on their walk.

After a moment she agreed, draining her mug and swaying dangerously. "You okay to walk after that?" Tommy asked, he'd forgotten that alcohol worked quicker on girls, she'd think that he was trying to get her drunk- not that he was above that sort of thing. She made a joke of it and Tommy supposed that if she could still joke, she'd be fine.

The cold night air whipped around them as they exited the building blowing snow into their faces that stuck in Katrina's hair and on her eyelashes. Tommy led the way, heading north towards the park. Katrina did most of the talking and for that Tommy was thankful, she was incredibly easy to be around, filling in the spaces in their conversations as though she knew he didn't like to talk. It was only when they'd almost reached the end of the park that she asked him a question.

"So where are your family now?" Tommy glanced up at her in the harsh glare of the streetlights. It was a moment before he could answer, he weighed his words carefully starting with the basics.

""My father and brother live here in the 'Burgh… my mom's dead, long time ago." Her platitude of sympathy was entirely lost on him. "This wasn't such a great place to grow up…" he began, not knowing how to proceed so he just died straight in with it.

"Mom and I left the old man behind, then she got cancer. After she died I joined the Corps, barely waited for the funeral." Tommy old guilt he felt at leaving his mother's fresh grave stirred in him again. It was perhaps because of this that he snapped at Katrina "I don't want pity." _Because you don't deserve it_ Tommy thought to himself. , " There ain't nothin' will change what happened but me n' Bren are on good terms now." He felt it was important to show her that he wasn't a complete lost cause, at least his brother he could talk about without wanting to hit something.

"And your dad?" Katrina aksed in a very small voice, Tommy felt bad about snapping at her now.

"Not worth talking about." He replied bruiscly, guilt making him less communicative than ever.

It was a quiet walk back to the apartment building, Tommy kept glancing over at his pretty neighbor when she wasn't looking. Her eyelashes were so long they kept catching snowflakes that she had to rub away as they melted. She started to shiver, rubbing her arms to keep warm.

"You're cold." Tommy said, feeling bad about dragging her out on such a freezing night.

She nodded wordlessly and he picked up the pace, anxious to get her home before she froze.

He left her at her front door. "See you soon?" she asked, Tommy felt his ego expand in his chest. He nodded touched that she wanted to see him again especially after how he'd acted. Before he could stop himself he'd reached down and squeezed her tiny hand in his. Her fingers were freezing; they were so close together that he could have kissed her without taking another step. He let go of her hand and backed off, down the hall. It was only a moment later that he'd been holding his breath.

Later, lying in bed, Tommy picked his phone off the bedside table, turning it over in his hands. He wondered if she was still awake, then felt stupid _stop acting like a chick!_ He berated himself. All the same he couldn't stop himself writing her a text "Goodnight"

He didn't send it.

A/N phew! This chapter was **so** hard to write and I think it's the last time I'll tell anything from both their perspectives- expect the story to pick up the pace from here on out! P.S. I re-uploaded this chapter because I realised that Tommy goes to Iraq not Afghanistan so Helmand Province was completely wrong (silly me!)


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I own nothing ALSO this chapter is a little graphic both in terms of blood and language (tbh if you watched the film I doubt an f-bomb here or there is gonna phase you but just so you know!)

**Chapter 14**

_February 13__th_

Rain poured down the sides of the bus as it stopped at the end of Oakland Avenue, Katrina steeled herself for the deluge before hopping off and running full-tilt for her building. The last of the snow was melting underfoot, compacted on the pavements into sheets of grimy ice. Katrina had to clutch onto a telephone pole to avoid sliding over as she rounded the corner. _Jesus!_ She thought to her self, _what a day!_

Developments at the studios had thankfully been less stormy and, as she turned her key in the lock Katrina thought she might just be in for a quiet, restful night. No tearful phone calls from Danni, no bitching about Lauren from Sonja or Mark who was having a rough time of it as Lauren's handsome prince. Just peace and quiet- bliss.

The six days since the casting of the production had been some of the busiest in Katrina's memory. Endless classes and rehearsals and conditioning to get them ready for the opening night which, as everyone kept reminding her, was only a month away. Four weeks to make everything step, note and word perfect. Her evening conversations with Tommy were a welcome respite, the two neighbors met up almost every night for a drink. After the Irish coffee incident Tommy began letting her add her own whiskey when she came to his apartment but he still dragged her out for walks in the snow virtually without warning. Katrina smiled, her friends at work were getting increasingly suspicious every time her phone rang during the day- they all insisted that she was dating the brawny fighter. Katrina told them repeatedly that they were "just friends", trying to stress just how out of her league Tommy was but everyone remained uniformly unconvinced.

Pushing open the door to her apartment she was greeted by the unwelcome sound of water dripping. A large puddle had formed on the living room floor and a damp patch on the ceiling told her that more water was yet to come. Sighing deeply, Katrina dumped her bag on the floor and went to fetch a bowl to put under the leak. _Must be all this rain_ she thought.

Knowing that she had a quiet evening to herself, Katrina took the time to do some of the things that usually got neglected. She had a long, hot bath with some of the bath salts that her friends in Chicago had given her as a leaving present- the lavender sent made her all sleepy and worked to relax some of the tight muscles in her legs and back. It was late by the time she got out, fingers and toes wrinkled by the water. She was just getting out he French manicure kit when she heard a knock on the front door. Katrina opened it, suddenly very aware that she was in pajama shorts and an old Joffrey Ballet t-shirt.

On the other side of the door was Tommy, in a t-shirt and trackies looking mightily put out.

"Hi."

"Hey, come on in." Katrina said, leading the way into the kitchen.

Tommy followed, Katrina noticed that his shoes were wet even though the rest of him was dry. "So, Katy," he began suddenly, taking a seat at the kitchen table, "my apartment's flooded, can I sleep on your couch tonight?"

"Uhh, sure no problem, is everything soaked?" she asked.

"Pretty much, gonna have to call the landlord tomorrow, dry the place out."

"Oh dear, do you want to go and rescue anything before it gets ruined, clothes, pictures?"

"Nah, I think it's just the floor and all the furniture that's wet."

"That's okay then." Out of habit Katrina put the kettle on. "Do you need a toothbrush, want to take a shower or anything?"

"I brought my own-" Tommy ruefully held a crumpled plastic bag.

"Always prepared- just like a boy scout."

"I weren't never a boy scout." Smiled Tommy. He'd unbent a bit over the last week, still loath to reveal any details about his past but quicker to laugh, less edgy. Katrina supposed he was a bit shy, and used to flamboyant "theater-types" she'd forgotten that some people take a while to get to know. After all, it wasn't as though she was exactly an open book about her childhood either- the pair of them were experts at avoiding the subject. "It's kinda late for coffee, even for you and also I've run out so, how about some tea?" Katrina asked, rooting around in her cupboards for the teabags.

"Tea? Uhhh, sure?" Anyone would think she'd offered him arsenic.

"Cool." Katrina opened yet another cupboard in search of teabags, spotting them she cursed. They were on the top shelf.

"How did they get up there?" she asked. Tommy rounded the bench to stand next to her.

"Need a hand?" he asked and next moment he'd got his hands around her waist and picked her up.

"_Kr-ist_!" Katrina squeaked, suddenly aware that she wasn't wearing any knickers.

"Got it?" Tommy asked from somewhere beneath her, Katrina quickly grabbed the packet.

"Got it, thanks" Blushing furiously Katrina bustled about getting mugs and milk. She saw Tommy smirk to himself as he returned to his seat.

They got through the rest of the night with much less embarrassment then even Katrina could have hoped for. They didn't talk much, the sound of the driving rain on the windows soothed them both like a lullaby. They half watched some game show; not really paying attention. It was almost midnight when, after her fourth cup of tea, Katrina noticed how late it was.

"Do you mind helping me make up the couch?"

Tommy followed her with out a word to her improvised linen cupboard- more of a shelf if she was honest.

"You don't have to go to all the trouble." He said, gruffly.

"Don't even think about it, you're a guest- my momma taught me manners."

"That she did… What's she like? Must be missin' you out on them islands." "Yeah, I guess so- but she's not alone out there, lots of friends, church… you know and I've been gone a long time. But what she's like? French."

"French?"

"_Oui_- naturalized citizen when she married my dad, moved here with me when she was seventeen."

"That young?"

Katrina nodded, spreading out the sheets with Tommy's help.

"My dad went to France on holiday after collage, came back with a wife and a baby."

"Wow…" Tommy thought for a moment before asking, "where is he now?"

"He died, pretty soon after I was born- Mom only stayed in the states because her parents wouldn't take her back, still don't talk to her, or me."

Tommy frowned, "twenty years later?"

"Yup, you know how family can be."

"Yeah, that I do."

Katrina yawned, dropping her edge of the blanket to cover her mouth with both hands. "Sorry."

"Don't be, I'm keepin' you up. You should get some rest."

"Yeah, goodnight Tommy."

"G'night Katy, thanks for letting me crash here an' everythin'."

"What are friends for right?"

With that they parted ways, Katrina taking the tiny spiraling staircase to her bedroom and Tommy throwing himself down on the couch. In the total quiet all she could hear was Tommy shifting around to get comfortable and the drip of water from the leak in her ceiling.

_Drip drip drip. _Katrina snuggled deeper under the covers.

Drip drip drip, she felt her eyes closing.

Drip drip- she was asleep before she knew it.

_February 14th_

Katrina woke, suddenly. Something was definitely not right her whole body tensed up, listening for noises in the dark. It was so pitch black that when she opened her eyes the gloom seemed to settle over them like a shroud. Then she heard it, a low moan and then again louder. Labored, rasping breathing turning to wrenching sobs. What was going on?

She flipped on her bedside light and got up. Looking over the balcony from her bedroom she could just make Tommy on the couch below. He was thrashing like a madman, blankets tangled around his legs. Without thinking Katrina dashed down the steps and knelt by his side. She grasped his shoulders and shook him violently. "_Tommy wake up!_" she whispered. He jerked back, from her, wrenching himself out of her grasp. For a long moment he stared at her, breath coming in great, shuddering gasps.

"_Manny? _That you?" he whispered, into the blackness.

"Tommy it's me Katrina, your neighbor." She reached out and touched his arm, he jerked back.

"Katrina?"

"Yes. You're in my apartment remember." She could just see him nodding.

"I woke you up." He replied tonelessly.

"It's okay. Are you alright?"

Tommy nodded again, breathing easier now, he'd nearly stopped shaking. Katrina reached out, one hand finding his chest in the darkness, he was drenched in cold sweat.

"You're freezing."

"It's fine." He put a hand over hers.

"Go back to sleep." Tommy lay back down but didn't let go of her hand. She could see his eyes glinting in the darkness, still half wild with fear. His heart was beating unnaturally fast under her fingers. "Move over." Katrina whispered, acting on instinct. Cautiously she climbed onto the couch next to Tommy, drawing the blanket over them both and laying her head on his shoulder. Tommy hesitated before wrapping his other arm around her. "No more bad dreams, promise?" she murmured.

"Promise." He whispered back.

When she woke Katrina was instantly aware that Tommy not with her. She felt his absence beside her, the fading heat on his side of the couch. She sat up and saw him, sitting on the end of the couch head in his hands. She rubbed her eyes, they were itching with tiredness.

"Good morning" she croaked.

"Mornin'" Tommy grunted, standing up and walking to the door. "Thought I should stick around least 'till you woke up. Tell you thanks for lettin' me crash here last night." Something in his voice put Katrina on edge

"Okay?" She slid off the couch and padded across to join him near the door. "Tommy, are you alright? What happened last night was pretty intense…"

Tommy's mouth tightened, "I'm fine."

"Sure?"

He turned, making to leave.

"Who's Manny?" She knew she shouldn't be asking this but wasn't prepared for his response.

He turned back to her suddenly cold and expressionless, "_That_ is none of your damn business… got it?" he stepped closer, suddenly towering over her. Katrina stood her ground, willing her knees not to shake. "Why do you care anyway?" he growled. Not waiting to hear an answer Tommy wrenched open the door and slammed it on his way out.

Katrina couldn't stop her hands from shaking all the way in to work, trying to put her hair up into a bun she kept dropping all the pins until Sonja had to come over and rescue her.

"Katy are you okay?" she asked, taking the hairnet that Katrina was twisting in her fingers.

"Yeah, I'm good, fine… yeah."

"Sure you are." Sonja carefully put up Katrina's hair, pinning in the loose ends and wrapping the hair-net over her bun with expert ease.

"Pointes? Or do you need me to tie those too?" she asked, getting them out of Katrina's bag.

"I think I've got this one thanks." Katrina smiled gratefully at the red-head.

Sonja's solicitous mood lasted all day, from cuing her in class when she spaced out to bringing her a salad in the lunch break when Katrina said she would really rather be alone for a bit. She even managed to keep from gushing about the pair of earrings Vlad had given her for Valentine's Day, all in the name of friendship.

"You're the best Soni you know that?" Katrina said, taking the salad her friend passed her and tucking in immediately.

"Are you going to tell me what's got you all screwed up?" Sonja asked, helping herself to a little chicken Ceaser.

"Boy, well, _man_ trouble."

"Trouble in paradise?" Sonja was instantly all ears.

"What paradise? We're just friends, well, we _were_ friends I don't know about that now."

"What happened?" Katrina filled her in on the action of the evening, Tommy coming by because his apartment flooded, watching TV, and then the terrifying nightmares. By the time she'd finished her friend's eyes were the size of dinner plates.

"And then he just yelled at you and stormed off?"

"Pretty much."

"Bastard."

"I think he's been through a lot... some… family troubles or something…"

"You're making excuses for him?"

"Okay I'll stop." Said Katrina quickly.

"Push over. Look, every great guy comes with some baggage… in your case lots of baggage. You have to decide it he's worth the extra-effort.

Katrina thought for a moment, munching on some lettuce, "Ninety nine percent of the time he's great, quiet but funny, very sweet you know? I would miss him if he wasn't around and I fancy him like _crazy_… but this... this really scared me, maybe too much."

"Well, I'm sure you'll find out how much is too much soon enough."

This troubling prophecy rolled around in Katrina's mind all through rehearsal like a marble in a tilt-a-whirl. She should have never gotten this involved in the first place, letting a virtual stranger invade her thoughts and feelings. She didn't know whether she was angrier with herself or with him.

She danced harder, throwing her body around the stage with renewed animation. There were still three hours left of rehearsal maybe if she danced hard enough he would be gone like some sort of exorcism. She leapt into the air, twisting before landing cat-like at center stage. If only she could leap free of her feelings so easily. _I wish I'd never met him in the first place _she thought, pirouetting. _No you don't _her inner voice chided. _Why is everything with him so complicated?_ She wondered, throwing her body to the ground to end the sequence, her hip hit the floor with a crack that effectively ended any more inner monologue.

Things went sharply down hill. Katrina was on her last pair of pointe shoes for the day, they were already wearing out a little, the hardened soles starting to give way, increasing the pressure on her toes. She raised her self up, wincing slightly but they would have to do.

Going to her last class, conditioning, as fate would have it, she noticed a tight knot of gossiping dancers congregated outside the studio doors. Getting closer Katrina could see that Daniel Kline was in the studio, the man still caused a stir wherever he went. He was seated at a small table at the far end of the room in deep conversation with Madame B, a stack of files balanced between them.

"What's going on?" Katrina whispered to Sonja who had appeared at her elbow.

"Contracts." Said Sonja, voice quavering slightly.

"What?"

"He likes to bring them out sometimes to let us know that were all under review- _everyone's replaceable_."

"But my contract doesn't come up for renewal until next year." Said Katrina, uncomprehendingly.

"Doesn't matter, he's fired lots of people mid-contract says he'll ruin any dancer's reputation if they try to sue, so it's _never_ contested."

"Just like that?"

"_Gone._" Sonja replied in grave tones.

They filed in, all the dancers unnaturally subdued. Katrina tested her pointes a few more times with trepidation, not at all sure they would get her through the class. Daniel still hadn't come up with that allowance money, she wished he'd hurry up.

They started to train, the music, now familiar flowed through Katrina like water. Over and over she raised herself up onto pointe and twirled and twisted, was picked up or dragged down. Thoughts of Tommy slamming his way out of her flat receded as she finally lost herself to the movement. The studio was heating up, sweat gleaming on the skin of the dancers as they pushed their bodies with desperation under the ever present beat of the music and the barking of Madame B's voice.

Then, Katrina felt it. _Crunch_. The pain shot like white lightning from her toes right up into her legs making her knees buckle. She knelt, pressing her hands to her mouth to stop herself from screaming out loud. The beat of the music now making her teeth chatter she dragged herself over to the wall at the back and propped herself against it. Pulling off her shoes she saw blood seeping through her tights, she shuddered. Dragging herself up to standing she slipped out of the doors to her left and headed for the dressing room.

Footsteps behind her should have warned her of someone coming but at the touch of a man's hand on her arm she yelped turning to face any would-be attacker. It was the director, Daniel Kline, looking immaculate in pewter-grey suit, dark hair slicked back from his predatory face.

"Something the matter?" he asked, not taking his hand off her arm.

"Umm, I think I might have broken a toe in there…" Katrina mumbled, gesturing to her stockinged feet, which were leaving stains on the concrete.

"Will you be coming in tomorrow?" Daniel asked.

"I guess so?"

"Your contract is up for review you know- you do want this job don't you?"

"Yes absolutely."

"And you'd do anything to keep it?" His thick fingers hand found purchase on her arm now. She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Daniel lent down until his lips just brushed her ear, "Anything?"

"No." Karina suppressed a shiver but Daniel just smiled genially, letting her go and backing off a few paces, all charm again.

"You should think about it, not so easy to find a new job these days." He called over his shoulder.

Down in the changing rooms Katrina peeled off her tights and saw the damage, it was a few moments before the tears started but once they did, she couldn't stop.

* * *

Katrina traipsed up the street, coordination all but lost to her tiredness. The lights of the apartment block seemed to be getting father away rather than closer as she walked. She groaned softly and sped up, pulling her jacket tighter around her shoulders as the cold started to bite.

She'd just reached the doors and was pulling them open when a large figure loomed out of the darkness, she leapt back with a yelp.

"Hey calm down." Tommy murmured, stepping into the light with his hands up. "Just me."

Katrina stared at him silently for a moment, heart still hammering. "Hi." She muttered, going for the door again. Tommy was too quick for her, opening the door and standing back to let her in. They stood face to face for a moment in the entry hall, Katrina was vividly aware that she must look terrible in the unflattering strip-lighting. She was sure her eyes were still red with crying and her cheeks blotchy. Unfortunately she was absolutely right.

"You okay?" asked Tommy after a moment, ducking his head to look her in the eyes. Katrina avoided his gaze, tightening her jaw to keep back the tears that threatened to spill again.

"I'm fine." She forced out trying to walk past him to the lift.

Tommy watched her go and then hurried to catch up, his longer legs covering the ground much more quickly than hers.

"I'm coming with you." He said, his tone brooking no room for argument.

He led her out of the lift, taking her bag and slinging it over his broad shoulder.

"Thanks" Katrina said quietly.

"S'okay"

Once inside Tommy lead her into the kitchen, the couch where they'd slept last night was still made up, the sheets rumpled. The pain in her feet and ankles was starting the burn as she took a seat at the counter. Tommy filled up a glass of water and pushed it towards her.

"You're limping." He said, coming around the bench to sit next to her.

"Probably." Replied Katrina, still not looking at him.

"Come on, shoes off."

"What?" she asked, alarmed.

"Come on." Tommy left her, going back to the sink where he filled up a large bowl with water.

"No way, my feet are a mess." She protested.

"Don't argue." Replied Tommy, fixing her with another _no nonsense_ look. Katrina stared at him for a moment before slipping off her sneakers. "Shit." She hissed in pain, her socks were now sticky with blood. She tried peeling them off and felt the broken parts of her toenails pulling out of the nail beds. She felt the room sway a little. All of a sudden Tommy was back by her side.

"_Fuck_" he hissed under his breath, lowering the bowl to the floor, "we'll soak 'em off." He said, gently guiding her feet into the water, which was mercifully warm. Katrina felt herself shudder all over as the water touched her skin, it burned a little but not more than she could stand. They sat in silence for a moment before Katrina realized that Tommy was staring at her.

"You wanna tell me what happened today?" he asked in his low gravely voice.

"_Ballet_ happened. Its not as glamorous as it looks." She attempted a smile.

"Your coach know this is happening?" he asked.

Katrina nodded, "It's normal." Tommy's expression darkened.

"Were you cryin'?" he asked suddenly. Katrina hesitated a moment before nodding again, miserably.

"'Bout this?" he pressed.

"It's just been a tough day at the studios- lots of pressure, everyone's stressing." Tommy nodded before kneeling down and gently taking her feet out of the water. Katrina was struck by the intimacy of this gesture; the Bible passage about the immoral woman washing Jesus's feet came to her mind. _All your sins are forgiven Tommy _she thought, the pain forcing her mind to wander. Tommy's voice brought her back through the fog.

"What happened?" he was asking, now peeling her socks very carefully over her toes. Katrina got the feeling he wasn't talking about her injuries.

"My boss- Daniel, dropped the bombshell that my contract is up for review and that he could fire me any time he wants..." She sighed, Tommy waited for her to continue, "He got a bit umm…" she broke off the push her hair of her face, "physical… I told him no but I want to- _have_ to, keep my job." Tommy's eyes hardened as he looked up at her, his grip on her ankles tightening. He nodded, his normally full lips disappearing into a tight line, Katrina saw the anger in his face and all of a sudden wished he wasn't holding on so tight to her legs.

He looked at her sharply, "Do you want me to talk to him?"

"Talk?"

Tommy shrugged in a non-committal way.

"I don't want you to go to jail."

"Thanks." He set her feet back into the water and stood. "You sure about that?"

"Sure. I'm a big girl, can handle my own drama."

"Shouldn't have to." He said quietly, he turned and dug around in a cupboard under the sink returning a minute later with a first aid kit. Silently he knelt down and with a care and dexterity that surprised Katrina began to bandage up her feet.

"You gotta take better care of yourself," he said.

"Yes doctor." Katrina replied, she reached down, running a hand over his hair, "hey," he looked up, "thanks for this, you don't have to do it you know."

He shook his head, "least I can do to apologize."

They sat in silence for a while, Tommy quietly finished his bandaging and emptied the bloodied bowl of water back into the sink. He threw himself onto a stool across from her with a sigh.

"Tommy." Katrina felt this had gone on long enough. "What's going on with you? Like last night, this morning, what was that all about?"

"It's nothin'" Tommy muttered, suddenly very interested in paint chipping off the bench. Katrina forced herself to continue, if she stopped now she would loose her nerve.

"It was a _lot_ of things, but nothing wasn't one of them."

Tommy said nothing, continuing to chip away at the paint until Katrina put a hand over his. He tensed up, glaring at her but she didn't let go.

"What's it to you? You don't know me." The anger of the morning was back in his voice.

"I _want_ to know you Tommy, that's why I'm asking. I care about you, okay?"

There was a long, tense pause before Tommy stood up and began to pace, running his hands through his dark hair distractedly. All of a sudden he started speaking, all in a rush as though the words had been waiting years to come out.

"It was in Iraq, my second tour. We were out on patrol, the whole unit, Manny, and me. Just routine, nothing going on..." He threw himself back onto the stool for a moment before standing again. Katrina stayed quiet, waiting for him to continue. "Then we see the planes overhead, American jets so we got out our flags, started waving 'em." He sat down again, all the fight going out of him. "When the bombs started falling I couldn't move, couldn't do nothin', the guy next to me was blown to bits but I couldn't run… Manny started pushing me in front of him, getting me to run. I fell, he pulled me up. He was behind me the whole time until the last bomb." Tommy drew in a great shuddering breath before continuing. "When I woke up he was in the bomb crater, all burned up, no legs, but he was still alive…screaming' for his wife… and I…" Tommy swallowed, shaking his head as though to get water out of his ears. Katrina could see that he couldn't continue. She slipped off her stool and put her arms around his neck. He tensed for a moment, unused to this sort of gentleness before wrapping an arm around her waist. She could feel him shaking all over, as if something inside him was breaking. She rubbed circles on his back, trying to soothe him, his arms tightened around her, their bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces. Eventually his breathing returned to normal, the grip of the memories loosening its hold.

"You should sit." He said finally, scooping Katrina up and carrying her bridal style to the couch. They settled down, half sitting, half lying, arms around each other.

"He saved my life" Tommy said finally, his voice barely more than a rumble. "Paid for it with his own."

"Hey, that's not your fault." Katrina knew that saying this wasn't going to convince him, but she had to try.

"I'm sorry" Tommy mumbled, cheek resting on top of her head.

"What about?" she asked.

"Bout everythin', being' a jerk to you this mornin', worse than a jerk. For actin' like a fuckin' baby right now… everythin'." he sighed.

Katrina turned to face him, putting a hand on either side of his face; she wanted him to listen to her, to understand.

"Tommy. You've been through a lot, seen way more than anyone should, and I know it's been hard on you just don't apologize for it. Okay? You don't have to carry everything by yourself- if you don't want to. But you can't take it out on me either, we clear?"

Tommy nodded jerkily, his dark blue eyes never leaving hers. Before she could catch her breath he'd wrapped both arms around her waist and dragged her into him. His lips were so soft that Katrina didn't mind how roughly they were kissing. She slid her hands into his hair, drawing herself closer to him. Kissing Tommy was like drowning, Katrina's every sense was full of him. The way he felt under her hands, hard muscle and warm skin, his heart beating so hard she could feel it through his chest and right into hers. The way he smelled, clean and smoky like cigarettes and the gym, his lips were so warm against hers. She didn't realize she'd been holding her breath until she had to pull away gasping for air.

Tommy tightened his arms around her as she drew back, only allowing her the briefest gasp before they were welded together tighter than before. His warm hands roamed over her back and down to her ass before scooping her up so she was sitting on his lap. She pulled away again, pressing her hands against his chest to push him back a little bit. He barely budged but seemed to get the message.

"Tommy,"

"mmm?" he smiled at her, respectfully moving his hands from her butt to her waist.

"What are we doing?" she asked, it seemed important to know before his lips tempted her back again.

"Kissin'." Said Tommy simply, he stroked her cheek with one callused thumb. "You're shaking."

"It's been a while." she admitted dropping her eyes.

"Hey," Tommy slipped his thumb under her chin, lifting her face back up to meet his for a kiss. "It's okay."

After that nothing else seemed important.

A/N- Love it? Hate it? let me know!


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

_February 15_

"Good job Tommy, now give me eight-" Frank held up his mitts and let Tommy strike eight against them. "Nice work today." He said clapping the panting fighter on the shoulder. Tommy nodded at him, a weary smile on his face before turning and heading towards the showers.

Tommy turned the shower up to full heat and let the water sooth his aching muscles. It was no use, the tension wouldn't go away no matter how hard he trained in the gym or how hot the water had called that morning, leaving him a long messages about picking Tommy up from the gym and them going to see Pop. Apparently Brendan had found him a live-in program to help him sober up. Tommy felt in hindsight as though he should have been the one to help their dad out, since it was mostly his fault that the old man was back on the bottle again. The ever-present guilt about his words and actions towards his father gnawed at his gut yet again. He sighed, shutting off the water and reaching for a towel.

Brendan was waiting for him in Frank's office by the time Tommy was finished getting dressed. He could see the two of them through the window, laughing about something. Tommy dug his hands deeper into the pockets of his jacket and caught his brother's eye. Brendan quickly said goodbye to Frank and hurried out of the office.

"Hey Tommy, how you been?" he asked, pulling Tommy into a one armed hug.

Tommy awkwardly clapped him on the back "s'been okay, trainin' hard."

"Frank treatin' you alright?" asked Brendan, leading Tommy out to the car and throwing his bag on the backseat.

"Yeah, yeah, he's a good guy- and a good trainer."

"He definitely is," agreed Brendan.

The pair didn't talk much on the way to Pop's house. Tommy knew that the tension from seeing their father again was making him uptight but he couldn't manage to break the silence. All of a sudden he wished Katrina was there, she always seemed to know when he needed her to talk because he couldn't or when he needed someone to listen. He felt himself smiling involuntarily at the memory of Monday night- kissing her on and on until she was breathless. They'd lain together on the couch, the TV on low and she'd fallen asleep in his arms like she was always meant to be there.

"What are you smiling about?" asked Brendan, his voice bringing Tommy back to the present.

"Nothin'" he grunted.

"Sure its nothin'… I know that look."

"What look?"

"That sappy look when you got a crush on a girl."

"What am I, thirteen?"

"You'll always be thirteen to me Tommy." Tommy snorted in disgust and went back to staring back out the window.

"What's her name?" Brendan pressed. Tommy considered telling him to mind his own, but he'd have to tell Brendan sometime if he ever planned on taking Katrina home with him as he fully intended to do.

"Katrina, she's my neighbor."

"Girl next door?"

"Pretty much."

"And?"

"God Bren, I swear if you were any more of a gossip you'd turn into a _chick_."

Brendan just grinned, "I guess we'll be meeting her soon then." To that Tommy had no answer.

By the time they pulled up at Pop's front door it had started to rain, heavy drops of water pummeling the car and soaking through Tommy's t-shirt in seconds as both brothers ran to the door. They stood shivering on the front porch before Tommy squared his shoulders and knocked three times on the front door. For a long moment there was no answer but they could hear the shuffling of feet as someone approached. The door creaked open and Tommy could see his father's face on the other side. He was struck again by the contrast between the man who had trained him for Sparta and the man before him today.

"Whad'ya want?" the old man asked, voice slightly slurred with drink.

"Can we come in?" asked Brendan.

The door was thrown open and they followed Paddy's retreating back into the kitchen. The house was in an even worse state than when they'd last visited. Persistent damp was starting to stain through the wallpaper and leave dark patches on the ceiling. The kitchen its self was cluttered with unwashed dishes and trash, old whiskey and wine bottles were huddled around the dustbin. The smell was terrible, stale alcohol mixing with old take-out. Brendan coughed, "Pop, what's going on here?"

"Nothin' much son," their father replied, "why'd you come to visit your old man after all this time?"

The brothers looked at each other uneasily, neither knowing quite how to breach the subject. Tommy shifted from foot to foot before beginning, "We were thinkin' you might need a little help Pop."

"Help? What kinda help?" the old man grumbled, taking down a bottle of Johnny Walker and pouring a generous amount into a mug. He offered it to both sons, each of whom refused. Privately Tommy though he could have used a drink right about now.

"Well y'know Pop, maybe to help you get this place cleaned up a bit, cut back on the liquor…" Brendan tried to explain.

Their father rounded on them brandishing the bottle, "I don' need no help of any kind- s'pecially not from _you_." He clumped off towards the living room, the boys followed.

They sat in silence, words unsaid echoing in their ears the ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece the only sound in the room.

"How 'bout if Pop?" asked Tommy, feeling he should at least back Brendan up.

"How 'bout what?"

"Gettin' sober- you had almost a thousand days last time I was here-"

Paddy laughed darkly and poured himself another shot of whiskey. "A thousand days eh? And what good did it do me? One thousand days of apologizin' for what I done to you boys growin' up. One thousand days of tryin' to be a different man, a better father. I give up- you've got no use for me now nowa days."

He sighed and lapsed into silence. "Heard you got a new trainer Tommy, you thinkin' of fightin' again?"

Tommy nodded. "I'm gonna be tryin out of Sparta again."

"That's my boy- never gives up…Theogenes" Paddy smiled vaguely, eyes starting to drift shut. The pride Tommy felt at his father's praise, a remnant of the times when his father had coached him almost all the way to the Olympics faired in Tommy's chest, quickly turning to ash.

"You want to see me fight again Pop?" his father nodded, eyes closed now, he seemed almost asleep.

"Go back on the program then- sober up and we can talk."

"Why." Paddy asked, his voice no more than a rumble, "I thought you liked me better as a drunk?" and he was asleep.

Tommy sat back in his seat with a deep sigh, "_Fuck_."

"Yeah." Agreed Brendan standing up and draping a blanket over their father.

Tommy rested his head on the palm of his hands, he really just wanted to go to sleep or go for a long run, anything to take his mind off the situation right in front of him. He could feel Brendan's interested gaze on his back, no doubt wondering what their father had meant about liking him better as a drunk.

All of a sudden Tommy just didn't want to deal with it. He rose and strode into the kitchen. Gathering up all the old drink bottles he threw them into a bin-bag and lugged the whole thing outside chucking it with a crash into the front lawn. Then he ran a skink full of hot water and began to wash the piles of dirty cups and plates that were in the skink. The water scalded his hands but he couldn't bring himself to care, a little bit of pain always cleared his head anyway. It was a moment before he realized that Brendan was standing by his side drying up the plates.

"So, what are we gonna do?" Brendan asked finally.

"Dunno… but he's going to that clinic whether he wants to or not."

"He better, I already booked him a place."

"You did?" Tommy looked over at him, surprised.

"Yeah- "

"Without tellin' me?"

"I had to make a start with the paper work Tommy, its no big deal."

"At least let me pay you half for the deposit."

Brendan waved him away, "You don't need to do that Tommy, I got this."

"No I should be the one payin' for this- it ain't your fault the old man's back on the sauce."

"Ain't your fault neither-" protested Brendan.

"Yes it is." Tommy twisted off the faucet and stalked off back into the living room, throwing himself down on the couch Brendan followed, taking the easy chair opposite.

"What do you mean Tommy?" Brendan asked after the silence stretched to breaking point. Tommy didn't reply but got up and started to pace, anger knotting the muscles down his spine. The tinderbox of anger he always harbored towards his father had found a spark to light it.

"All of _this_ is about _me_ and Pop, not you. You never got involved in the past and y'shouldn't try now. I know why you're tryin' to help but payin' for Pop's treatment ain't gonna undo what you did Bren." He ground out, he was too angry now to admit to his own shortcomings, it was easier to take it out on Brendan.

Brendan leapt to his feet, "What are you talking about?"

Tommy stopped pacing a rounded on his brother, "I'm talkin' about you abandoning us, me and Ma, we needed you then not now. Throwin' your cash around ain't gonna bring her back." He growled.

Brendan's jaw clenched in anger as he stepped into the path of Tommy's pacing.

"Fuck you Tommy, I didn't even know she was sick! You kept it from me- that was _not_ your decision to make."

"Yes it was, I was there- you chose the old man over us."

"And what about Tess?" The two brothers stood toe-to-toe glowering at each other.

"What about 'er?" Tommy respected and liked Tess too much to say anything against her- try as he might he couldn't resent her for her part in his brother's abandonment. He dropped his gaze heaving a deep sigh.

"Tommy you know I only stayed for Tess, that was the _only_ reason, I love her you can understand that, can't you?"

Tommy nodded grimly, sitting back down on the couch. "I'm sorry. I shoulda called you, said something." He muttered.

"S'okay- I shoulda told you I wasn't comin' along… shoulda told you I booked Pop into this rehab place."

"I'm still paying half of that y'know."

"How about you owe me?" Tommy raised an eyebrow. "After your first fight you'll get sponsors and then you can pay me back when you have the money."

"Alright- until I have the money…" Tommy nodded in agreement.

They both jumped as a voiced croaked from the corner.

"What's this rehab you've gone and put me in?"

Brendan clenched and unclenched his fists before turning and facing their father who, befuddled by drink was looking surprised to see them.

"Whadda you doin' in my house?" he rasped, hand already groping for the bottle beside the chair, Brendan snatched it up.

"We're here to get you into a program Pop- for the drinking." Their father's face darkened with rage but Brendan held up a hand to stem the torrent of abuse coming his way. "We mean it Pop, its either this or we call APS and have them take you." All the red drained out of Paddy's face, leaving it an ugly ashen, puce.

"Y'woudn't. My own boys?" His voice turned pleading but Brendan was unmoved, he nodded grimly.

"We'll come by tomorrow to pick you up- three o'clock?" Paddy couldn't do anything but sit in shock, gaping at the two of them. Tommy rose from the sofa, padding across the living room. It was strange to him- seeing Brendan and Pop together, the icy hatred Brendan held for their father was really the only ugly side Brendan had, but Pop did have a way of bringing out the worst in everyone.

"You alright with that Pop?" he asked quietly, crouching down so he wouldn't tower over the old man. Tommy would later reflect that where their father was concerned, he and Brendan switched roles, Brendan was the angry messed up one and Tommy had to walk in his brother's peace-keeping shoes for a mile or two. He was sure the experience probably did him a world of good.

"Alright?" Pop asked gazing blearily up into the concerned face of his youngest son, "You're sending me away… my own boys…" he trailed off muttering incoherently.

"It's not far Pop and then you can move back here again- when you've dried out."

"Well I'll be the driest old drunk they ever saw then," mumbled Pop, eyes starting to close. Tommy hiked the blanket higher over his father's chest and stood, glad to get away. Brendan was already waiting at the door to go.

"I can't stand this place." He admitted as the pair walked to the car.

"I can see that." replied Tommy, "you're hard on him you know- I know the old man deserves it but-" Tommy broke off, catching Brendan staring at him.

"Since when did you care about Pop?" his brother asked bitterly.

"Since when did you?"

Tommy said goodbye to Brendan in front of the red-brick apartment buildings. The streetlights were already on, turning the last of the dirty snow bright orange in the half-light. It was a quick goodbye- Tommy knew that Brendan was eager to get back to Tess and the girls, might still be angry about the fight they had earlier and was definitely still angry at Pop. He watched his brother drive away before climbing the stairs up to his apartment.  
The place was still slightly damp- maintenance had done a good job draining the floodwater after the storm but the job wasn't done yet. Tommy was still sleeping on the couch until his mattress dried out.

He changed quickly into a pair of worn sweats and collapsed on the couch with a deep sigh, he didn't think he could take many more days like today, dealing with Pop really took it out of him. It was like re-opening an old wound and rubbing salt into it.  
He suspected it was much worse for Brendan who'd so long tried to cut himself of from their father for reasons Tommy wasn't quite sure of, the pair hadn't spoken much about life after Tommy and their mother left Pittsburgh but from what Brendan had told him it had been rough. All the same, Pop was getting old, his shouting and drinking days were behind him. _I must be getting soft if I'm sticking up for the old man_ he thought.

He flicked on the TV, scrolling past the news and old western movies that were always on this time of night, finally settling on the highlights of a Formula One race from earlier in the evening. As he watched the cars whizzing around the track his mind wandered back to last night when he and Katrina had done much more interesting things on her couch. He smiled remembering how her lithe body felt under his hands, how she shivered all over with nerves and excitement. It was like kissing a livewire; she was so much stronger than she looked, and so in the moment her hands wandering over his back and under his shirt, her back arching to bring their bodies closer together.

They'd only kissed last night, Tommy hadn't made-out with a girl since high school and he'd started to worry seriously about the possibility of blue-balls, but he knew that this was different. _He_ was different around her, in only a few weeks Katrina knew more about him than almost anyone else in the world, even Bren in some ways. He'd told her more about Manny's death then he'd told even Pilar, then he could ever tell anyone else.

That was what made the difference- Katrina knew his secrets and he couldn't hide behind the hard and indifferent mask that he showed to the rest of the world, the girl was officially under his skin, but Tommy couldn't find it in him to care. _Christ you really are getting soft _he thought to himself.

Katrina had eventually fallen asleep in his arms; knocked out by the two painkillers he'd made her take. Her tiny, warm body curling into his like a kitten, and he'd wrapped his arms around her. He smiled remembering how her long eyelashes cast shadows on her cheeks. His arms felt empty with out her when he'd finally set her down and left her to sleep, they still felt empty now. _You've got it bad _he thought, _maybe it's not too late to go and see her? _Tommy checked his phone for the time, not having a watch. It was ten thirty. _Katrina's probably still awake_, that he knew what time his neighbor usually went to sleep was slightly alarming, maybe he could just swing by and see how she was doing?

Tommy quickly quashed this idea, hauling himself off the couch and cricking his neck, he should let her sleep especially that injury she'd been carrying last night. He felt a sick squeeze in his stomach as the memory of Katrina's battered feet flashed through his mind; he'd never minded blood before but about seeing her bleed didn't sit well with him at all.

At least with fighting the risks were pretty obvious, Tommy had never thought of ballet as dangerous before but now he guessed it was. It was different, Tommy thought to himself, seeing big guys like Rampage Jackson or Mad Dog Grimes, even his own brother getting beat up, and carried out of the ring, they were meant for that, tough enough to take a beating. Katy was plenty tough herself though, mused Tommy, hard as nails in her own sweet way, even so, seeing her hurt had affected him, more than he'd expected.

A/N oh my goodness that was a doozie- writer's block is kicking my ass right now! Sorry about the wait- hopefully things will get quicker from here (promises promises…) I read and edited this chapter until I thought I was going crazy last night so please let me know if its cr*p! Thanks to LeavesofYanara for pointing out a mistake!

xxx


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I own nothing

**Chapter 16**

_February 16__th_

Katrina woke up and stretched, wincing, the muscles in her back and legs were cramped beyond belief. It was a moment before she realized that she was curled up in an armchair in her tiny living room. _Bonjour Tristesse _was lying on the floor at her feet; she must have drifted off reading. The last twenty-four hours had been a blur of classes, drama, and rehearsals. Just thinking about it made Katrina's head ache. However, today, she decided, would be different. Today everything was going to absolutely to plan; she might even get up the courage to go around to Tommy's flat. Probably not.

The pair hadn't spoken since Monday night when they'd lain for hours tangled together and kissing on her sofa. Every time Katrina looked at it the memory of Tommy's touch ran over her skin once again.

The man himself however hadn't been in contact. _Typical guy move_, she thought, sitting up and cricking her neck. She decided to put Tommy out of her mind, something she'd been deciding almost every day since she'd met him. _I mean it this time_, she vowed to herself, _no more crushing on this guy like a little girl_, _you are an adult and a strong woman Katrina May Christiansen_ _and you will act like one._

Lecture to herself over, Katrina set about getting ready for the day. It was going to be a long one- Lacy had announced that their little dance troupe had another job which was just as well as Daniel their director was still stalking the halls with their contracts under his arm. This was a sure sign, Sonja assured her, that someone was for the chop. That conversation was in fact the cause of Katrina's late night- comforting a sobbing Danni on the phone until two in the morning. Sonja, Mark and even Vlad who was notoriously softhearted, had all been screening Danni's calls for this exact reason.

Katrina wandered into work almost an hour early and idly painted her nails while she waited for the others to arrive, trying to clear her head. She kept having to stop herself from checking her phone, wondering if Tommy might have sent her a text or left a voicemail, he hadn't even left her a note but she was much too proud to call.  
She knew the way with men like Tommy was patience; he'd been through a lot- physically and emotionally and was only just starting to heal. If what had happened between them had felt intense to her, it must have been a hundred times worse for him Still, her own heart was feeling distinctly bruised.

The soloists began to fill up the locker room chattering about the latest gossip from the upcoming production- most of them were in a tizzy because a group builders were coming in to the studios to get started on the set. Katrina heaved a sigh, sliding in one last bobby pin and standing up.

"Ready?" asked Sonja who was engrossed in the latest edition of Vogue.

"Ready." Replied Katrina, glancing back at her cell one last time- the blank screen mocking her. _Put him out of your mind, remember?_ She thought to herself.

She forced herself to focus in class, allow the rhythm of the music to transport and carry her- no need to think. For her, this was the real magic of dance, completely emptying your mind of everything except the dance and the steps, while the music was playing nothing else mattered.

Unfortunately the machine-gun-fire of Madame B's voice was totally ruining her vibe today. The woman was in a particularly foul mood, screeching at two of the male dancers when they talked at the barre and driving the poor pianist to his wit's end by demanding the same sections of the music be played over and over until every dancer completed the exercise perfectly.  
On days like this Katrina usually made sure to stay well out of her way, hugging the back wall and keeping her head down. Somehow however, the movement of the crowd pushed her to the front like penguins huddling for warmth.

_Crap_, she thought as the music for a particularly challenging exercise clanged through the studio, she was right in the front and in the firing line. Squaring her shoulder she launched into the pattern. By some God-sent miracle Madame B's eyes glanced straight over her into the third row where she picked out some unfortunate girl and made her do the whole thing over on her own. Katrina vowed to go to mass on Sunday if she could keep up this run of luck.

"Katy!" Katrina looked up from where she sat undoing her pointe shoes, her toes were still swaddled in two layers of bandages but she could never seem to get them on as well as Tommy had.

"What's up?" she asked, looking around for who had called her, the soloist's changing room was packed to bursting just before lunch hour with loudly chattering girls.

"Katy!" Sonja squeezed onto the bench beside her and presented her with her phone. "You've got a missed call." She smirked as Katrina snatched up the phone and pressed re-dial. It went to Tommy's voicemail so she hung up with a sigh.

"Who was it?" asked Sonja.

"Tommy." Replied Katrina, feeling she should at least tell someone.

"Tommy, the fighter?" Katrina nodded, not able to stop the smile that came to her lips. Sonja gasped, "Katy why didn't you tell me something happened? I want to know everything!" It was sometimes hard to believe that Sonja was twenty-four years old.

"Okay, _things_ happened on Monday night." Admitted Katrina with a wider smile, "It was… beyond amazing."

"And you waited a whole _day_ to tell me?" Sonja's eyebrows shot into her hairline.

"I'm sorry, it was just so… intense- I guess I just needed some time to process everything."

Sonja nodded understandingly, "Has he redeemed himself for being a jerk then?"

"Oh yes, absolutely. We talked and sort of started to unpack the baggage."

"Thattagirl." Katrina was glad that Sonja didn't want to know what sort of things came to light during _that _conversation.

Sonja and Danni spent the rest of the walk to the dancer's favorite greasy spoon café pestering Katrina for details about her "raunchy night". She'd eventually had to disappoint them by telling them that she and Tommy were only on "first base", sometimes Katrina longed for "grown up" conversation.

It started to rain, tiny droplets darkening the pavement, the heavy black clouds obscuring the sun plunging them all into an artificial dusk.

The dancers settled into their favorite booth at the back of the café, the rumble of trucks outside making the cutlery shake on the table. Vlad and Mark were sitting with their heads together having an deep "guy talk" about their fantasy football leagues from last season which left Katrina at the mercy of Danni and Sonja.

Thankfully her friends had stopped interrogating her inquisition-style and had moved on to speculating about the next show they were putting on with Lacy and the others. They were saying something about a football stadium getting new uniforms to match the team they were supporting- Katrina wasn't really paying attention.

She was sitting closest to the aisle and took a moment to gaze out over the sea of people crowded into the small café for lunch. Most of them were men from the steelworks a few streets away, marked out by their thick, slightly singed work coats. There were always a few older men at the bar who never seemed to leave, they were the ones who nursed a pint all day and knew the bar man by name.

As she looked over the sea of bent heads and broad backs one group of men stood up from their table, getting ready to leave. Three of these men were unusually tall and hulking, they seemed to be laughing about something- clapping each other on the back. The fourth man stood slightly apart from them shrugging on a thick jacket and pulling up his hood in preparation for the rain outside. He had his back to her but Katrina would have known him anywhere, the unaffected slouch with his hands in his pockets and his hood up. _Tommy_.

"You okay Katy, you look a million miles away?" asked Danni.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine…" she glanced back up to where Tommy was standing. He turned slightly as though he could feel her gaze on his back, his eyes landed on hers. He immediately started over, weaving quickly through the throngs of people at the bar.

"Who's that?" asked Sonja, following her gaze, then, before Katrina had time to answer comprehension dawned on he face. "Its _Tommy_ isn't it?"

Katrina only had time to nod before he was at her side.

Tommy had taken his hood off, his dark hair sticking up at angles, she itched to smooth it down. He was shifting nervously from foot to foot, shoulders hunched and hands in his pockets.

"Hey." He started.

"Hey… umm, these are my fiends- Sonja, Danni, Mark, Vlad." Tommy tensely nodded at them not smiling.

"Do you wanna go outside?" he asked his eyes never leaving her face.

Katrina looked out of the window- it was raining more heavily now.

"Uh, sure."

Standing outside the restaurant, Katrina turned to face Tommy, pulling her jacket tighter around her shoulders.

"You feelin' better today?" he asked.

"What?"

"Your feet."

"Oh, yeah, well no, not really but it'll get better with time."

"You work too hard."

"So do you." Katrina's eyes strayed to a fresh bruise forming across Tommy's cheekbone. "I thought you were just sparring in the gym."

Tommy shrugged, "It's a violent sport, people get hurt."

"Yeah. I guess."

"Katy." Tommy stepped closer to her, close enough that she could feel the warmth rolling off him. "I'm sorry I didn't call you earlier… had some stuff to do with Bren an' Pop."

"It's okay."

"No it ain't" he insisted, "at least let me make it up to you."

Katrina had to smile at that, "And how do you plan on doing that?" she asked.

"Take you out to dinner." Tommy replied, "This weekend, we'll go somewhere real nice- you pick." He looked hopefully down at her.

"Okay, I'd love to."

Tommy relaxed visibly, his full lips arching into a smile. Before Katrina had time to think he'd pulled her into a deep kiss. Her arms instinctively went around Tommy's neck, her body pressed flush against his. Tommy's warm hands found her hips and drew her even closer.

Far too soon, they broke apart for air and Katrina could see all their friends faces pressed, grinning to the window.

"Looks like we got an audience." He murmured into her hair.

"You want to come sit with us?" she asked.

Tommy shook his head "I gotta get back to the gym, tell Frank I'm taking Saturday night off."

"Friday night- I'm working Saturday."

"Friday then. See, you work too hard." Tommy said with a crooked smile and then he was gone.

* * *

_February 18th_

Friday night couldn't come quickly enough. Sonja and Danni insisted that she go home early from work to get ready for her date.

Katrina spent the first hour of her free afternoon in the bath washing her hair. Then she shaved her legs and _everywhere_ else. She had a feeling this wasn't going to be your typical first date.

As good as his word, Tommy let Katrina pick out the restaurant. She'd settled on a small gastro-pub that she passed on the bus every day on the way to work, it looked cozy inside and not to fancy. This made finding an outfit easier, she didn't have much that would have been suited to an up-scale restaurant anyway not usually having the money to spend on clothes.

On her way back from work however she had stopped at a shop on fifth avenue and bought a pretty white-lace top that she could wear over jeans. The top was cut low enough that it made the most of her underwhelming cleavage without being tarty. She slipped it on over her head, assessing herself momentarily in the mirror before getting on with blow-drying her hair.

She had the dryer on at full force when Tommy knocked at her door so at first she didn't hear him. He was early and when she opened the door she could see that he was nervous. He wasn't the only one, her stomach flip-flopped over at the sight of him. The man cleaned up good.

Out of his customary sweat pants and bulky jumpers Katrina could appreciate just how much muscle Tommy had gained since they first met. The black button-down shirt he was wearing over jeans looked like it might tear off if he breathed too hard. He looked even more attractive than usual clean-shaven for once, Katrina thought she might have trouble getting through dinner without jumping him.

She drew in a slightly shaky breath, "Hi."

"Hi." He replied, rubbing the back of his neck apprehensively.

"Come on in, you'll have to wait a bit- I haven't got my makeup on yet."

"Look pretty good to me." Said Tommy, kissing her on the cheek as he stepped into the apartment. She smiled, feeling any nerves subside before slipping back into the bathroom to make up her face.

"You ready?" Tommy asked as she stepped out of the bathroom five minutes later, he'd been pacing up and down her living room.

"Ready." She answered, slipping on her coat and grabbing her purse.

"You won't need that." Smiled Tommy, "I got this one."

"_Christ_ the cheque hasn't even come yet- shouldn't I at least get the chance to offer to pay?"

Tommy smiled again, relieving her of her purse "No point, you know what I'm gonna say."

"I guess I do." Katrina laughed as Tommy threw her the keys to her appartment and chucked the purse on the couch. "You're a true gentlemen then."

"You're not the only one who was taught some manners by their mother." Replied Tommy as he ushered her out of the apartment.

The pair chatted idly as they ambled along the streets, it was nice, as though nothing had changed between them and they were still just friendly neighbors. This illusion was shattered when Katrina caught Tommy looking down her top. She felt her cheeks flush and caught his eye, grinning. Tommy at least had the good grace to look somewhat abashed.

The restaurant, obviously a neighborhood favorite, was tiny and packed when they arrived. The waiter led them to a table at the back and left them with a pair of menus. Katrina picked hers up and perused it for a moment, she could feel Tommy's eyes on her.

"What?" she asked, looking up.

"Nothin'." He mumbled, looking away hurriedly.

Thankfully the awkwardness was diffused by the waiter turning up and asking them what they'd like to drink.

"I'll have a glass of white please," said Katrina. Tommy chose a beer and the waiter serving them bustled off into the throng.

The conversation flowed more easily after that, Tommy shed his nerves and told her all about MMA; the grueling training regime and the men who he might be facing in SPARTA and upcoming bouts. To Katrina it was like another world, she'd never even seen boxing on the TV much less a sport that could leave it's contestants out cold.  
Nevertheless, she could picture Tommy in the ring perfectly steel-grey eyes locked on his opponent, the aggression that he carried just under the surface being channeled into violence.

Katrina didn't quite know when Tommy's hand found hers over the tabletop. Was it during her salad or afterwards when the conversation turned to past relationships? His fingers tangled with hers, sending her mind completely off track and into the gutter.

Somewhere along the line, Tommy admitted that he'd never really had a girlfriend.

"Really? I don't believe it." Said Katrina, surprised, "good looking guy like you?"

Tommy laughed softly, his thumb smoothing the palm of her hand, the action made in incredibly hard for Katrina to concentrate. "It's true. Just never found the right girl. You?"

"Find the right girl? No." She grinned, "But I did have one proper boyfriend. Its not easy finding a man to put up with a dancer's lifestyle- you know, training, injuries all the rest." Katrina didn't really want to think about the real reason so many of her relationships ended.

"I know what you mean, most people don't understand what it's like bein' an athlete but I s'pose its all you've ever known."

"Yeah, and you too I guess." Tommy had told her all about how his father coached him to three junior Olympic titles in wrestling when he was young. His voice hardened slightly as he talked about the old man, his drive, and his dreams for his sons. Katrina got the impression that there was a lot of emotion there, some anger, lots of pain- fresh wounds laid down over the old.

The waiter deposited the cheque on the table and Tommy took out his wallet. Their eyes met across that table and Katrina laughed.

"One of these days I'll be the one to take you out Thomas Conlon." She teased.

"Not gonna happen, as long as you're with me you can leave your purse at home."

"I should just start calling you sugar daddy."

"What? Cuz' I'm so sweet?" Tommy smiled, showing his slightly crooked teeth. Katrina loved his smile, it was just as dysfunctional as the rest of him.

"So tell me," Tommy asked as they exited the restaurant into the gathering night, "do you actually speak French?"

"You've been waiting ages to ask me that haven't you?" replied Katrina, Tommy nodded. "Yes, I do speak French, with my mom. Its sort of my first language- when I went away to school I got teased by the other kids because they couldn't understand me." She laughed bitterly.

Tommy took her hand in his, squeezing gently; Katrina wondered how he was always so warm- even on a night as cold as this one. Their fingers laced together as they walked on in silence. It reminded her of the first time Tommy had dragged her out of the apartment to take a walk in the snow. The snow was all gone now, the last of the grimy slush melted away with the rainstorms that flooded Tommy's flat. The feeling between them though was the same, that excitement and nervousness of discovering something new. She glanced at Tommy and caught his eye. He smiled then stopped walking, turning to face her.

"What?" she asked, perplexed.

Tommy said nothing but cupped her cheek with his free hand and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. Katrina slipped a hand into his jacket and around his broad back, leaning into him. She could hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears as desire began to pool in the pit of her stomach. They broke apart, both gasping for air.

"Been waitin' to do that all night." Said Tommy, his voice rougher than usual.

They made it back to Oakland Avenue in record time, only her utmost self control stopping Katrina from jumping Tommy in the elevator.

In the end they barely made it through the door of her flat, falling though the door and kicking it shut behind them. Katrina's jacket hit the floor with a thud followed by Tommy's as they backed into the living room. Tommy sat down on the couch and pulled Katrina down on top of him. _All the best things happen on this couch _Katrina thought. Her mind had been kicked into overdrive by Tommy's touch, all her senses on high alert. Feeling bold she started to undo the top buttons on his shirt, tracing the smooth skin across his collarbones and down his chest. She felt Tommy moan into her mouth, the deep, vibration of his chest reverberating into hers.

His lips wandered down her neck leaving a trail of electricity in their wake. She swiftly undid the last of the buttons on his shirt, her hands grazing his lower stomach, making him shudder. His kisses became more insistent, bruising almost and Katrina moaned softly with pleasure, her head falling back.

Tommy stood up, slipping his hands under Katrina's ass; he carried her up the tiny winding staircase to her bedroom and laid her down on the covers. In the half- light Katrina could see the dark outlines of Tommy's tattoo's writhing over his skin.

Feeling fearless, she reached for him, taking his hand, and drawing him down to her; his hips settling in the cradle of hers. Her breath hitched as his weight pressed on the bruise on her hip- pain and pleasure mixing dizzyingly together.

Tommy pushed the straps of her top off her shoulders pushing the material to her waist. Katrina arched into him at the touch of his hands on her chest, her legs wrapping around him.

"God you're gorgeous" she heard Tommy murmur, his words slightly muffled in her cleavage. He helped her out of her top and slid the jeans off her legs until she was lying just in her panties looking up at him. She sat up, legs hanging off the edge of the bed and fumbled with the buttons on his jeans, pushing them off his hips and to the floor, placing a shaking hand on his stomach she felt all his muscles tense and jump at her touch.

"You sure about this?" he asked, bending down to look into her eyes. Katrina nodded jerkily, realizing that she was shaking all over. "Just nervous."

Tommy smiled, pressing his lips to hers briefly, "don't be- I got this."

Going to bed with Tommy, Katrina later thought, had definitely ruined her for all other men. Maybe it was his fighting experience or _lots_ of practice or his natural talent, but he seemed to instinctively know the ins and outs of her body, read her every sigh and moan, know exactly what she needed. The heat that ignited between them scared Katrina a little; she'd never felt like this before, the raw need for a man's touch. It was like a fever dream, like dancing with your eyes shut, all her senses were filled up with him, the way he felt; rough and smooth, skin on skin.

They lay together, breathing hard both their bodies slicked with sweat Katrina's heart was beating as if she'd run a marathon. Tommy pressed a warm kiss to her collarbone, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her flush against him. She listened to as his heartbeat slowly returned to normal, one of her hands tangled in his hair, which needed cutting.

"Mmm," Tommy's rumbled, "you alright?"

Katrina had to smile at that, "more than _alright_." There was a long silence, Katrina got the feeling Tommy was working up to saying something.

"I know I ain't exactly the romantic type…I wanna be the kind of guy you deserve if you'll let me try…" Tommy murmured.

"I think you're a lot more romantic than you let on Tommy Conlon" She felt him smile against her lips.

_A/n_

_What do you think? Love it? Hate it? Let me know! Xx_

_P.S. Shout out and many thanks to all my beautiful reviewers- I really appreciate that you take the time to react to my work, it means the world to me! _


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: I don't own Warrior *shock horror!*

**Chapter 17**

_February 19th_

Tommy woke up in the dark. He was warm, almost too hot, he was instantly aware of the woman sprawled across his chest, her soft skin under his hands. _Perfect_, he thought, stroking his way down her spine. Katrina shifted gently against him and Tommy felt his blood flow south.

He checked his watch. Shit, he groaned, it was already five thirty, time to go. He mulled over his options; eight-mile run in the freezing cold or… Katrina shifted her body over his again, one of her legs wrapping around his hips, bringing their bodies closer together…

Tommy sighed, sitting up and groping for the bedside light. He scooped his boxers off the ground and slipped them on before looking around for his jeans. Putting them on he stood up. He turned around; _she's cute when she's asleep_ he thought with a smile. He hitched the blankets higher around Katrina's shoulders, not wanting her to get cold. He dropped a kiss on the top of her head still not wanting to leave. She stirred slightly but didn't open her eyes.

Although Tommy wouldn't think of it until later, this was only the second time in his life that he'd slept through the night with a woman. Usually after the passion wore off Tommy was straight out the door, he didn't waste time feeling like a jerk. This time though, Tommy found a pen in the desk draw and a post-it. His lips pulled into a grimace as he tried to think of the right thing to say. He hesitated before starting to scribble.

_Hey K,_

_Last night was great, _

Great didn't really seem like the right word to use but he'd written it now.

_I've gone on a run, see you soon._

_Tommy_

He put down the pen. Katrina knew he wasn't exactly good with words, but it was the thought that counted right?

* * *

_March 4th_

"I'm thinkin' of getting' a new tattoo" said Tommy to Katrina as they lay in her bed watching the sun come up on a Sunday morning.

"You are? What of?" she asked, stretching sleepily before snuggling deeper into his side.

_Your name right over my heart _Tommy thought. "I dunno." He replied.

"Not a clue?" she pressed.

"A lot's happened since I last got ink…" Katrina's fingers brushed his collarbone where Manny's dog tag numbers were etched, raising goose bumps on his flesh. "Maybe it's time to, I dunno, write it down."

"On your skin?"

"Yeah…"

Katrina nodded, fingers still tracing the outline of his collarbone, "where would you put it?" she asked.

"Probably down the side." Said Tommy, indicating his ribs.

"All the way down?"

Tommy shrugged, wrapping his arms around her more tightly. It was still early spring and Katrina refused to put on the heat in her apartment, Tommy could have sworn it was colder inside than out.

He was distracted by Katrina's hands dipping under the covers and sliding down his abs making the muscles jump and tense. He felt most of his blood surge downwards turning any further thoughts to white noise.

"I think it's a great idea." He felt her whisper against his neck.

The last two weeks had been some of the happiest in Tommy's memory, determined to do things by the book Tommy took her out on a second date. Two dates turned into three and before a week had passed they were spending almost every night in bed together. It was getting harder and harder to leave her for work at the crack of dawn, usually they stayed at her place and Katrina had taken to cooking him breakfast in the mornings. Breakfast always seemed to turn into something more and Katrina's couch now had a permanent dent to the cushions.

As it was still early and a Sunday neither of them had to get up and Tommy was treated to the sight of Katrina fast asleep. Her hair fanned out on the pillow like a halo. The neck of his Tap-out T-shirt that she was wearing had slipped down over her shoulder, Tommy brushed the exposed skin with the tips of his fingers, not able to resist but trying not to wake her. Tommy had learned over the past two weeks that she was almost as light a sleeper as he was and predictably her eyes fluttered open at his touch, she smiled.

"Hey." She whispered, "What time is it?"

Tommy checked the cellphone he'd left by the bed, "six thirty."

Katrina sat up, running her hands through her hair. "Time to get up."

"Seriously? On a Sunday?" Tommy could feel the heat already leaving her side of the bed.

"Gotta go to mass." She replied, voice muffled from the huge sweater she was pulling over her head, a jumper that Tommy recognized to be his own. "Do you want to come?" she asked. Tommy sat up and pulled on his boxers to stall having to give an answer. Thankfully Katrina's phone rang just as he was trying to think of a polite way of saying no.

"Sorry" Katrina mouthed, the person on the other end of the line hadn't given her time to get a word in yet. Judging from the fact that Tommy could make out a voice, the person seemed to be shouting. Katrina wandered downstairs, still listening patiently while Tommy looked about for the rest of his clothes, he sighed, she was wearing his t-shirt _and_ his sweater. _Well I'll just have to go and get them…_ he thought to himself, following Katrina down the stairs.

Tommy padded downstairs, sneaking up on Katrina from the back. He pressed a kiss to her neck, just above the collarbone and slipped his hands under her sweater. She squeaked with surprised, jumping like a scaled cat.

"Tommy don't sneak up on me like that!" she gasped, leaning against him.

"Sorry." He replied, gripping her waist more tightly, pulling her close. Katrina sighed, melting into him slightly. This was how it always seemed to be with them in the mornings, Frank was starting to notice how many times Tommy had turned up to work late.

Whoever was on the other end of the phone started shouting again, this time much louder. Katrina frowned, holding the phone slightly away from her ear.

…_calmez-vous si vous plait maman! Mon dieu, c'est pas seriouse!_.. From the language Tommy realized Katrina must be talking to her mother; suddenly having his hands up her top seemed really inappropriate.

…_maman c'est vulgaire! ne me demandez pas ça!_... Tommy tactfully stepped slightly away as the family argument stepped up a notch.

…_Ne demandez pas si je suis vierge! Je te hais!_...

Not giving the other woman time to respond, Katrina shut the phone with a snap. "putain!" she spat with surprising viciousness. Then she sighed, "Sorry about that."

"S'oaky, was that your mom?"

Katrina nodded, biting her lip. "I don't like fighting with her but sometimes…"

"Families fight- I get it. Never heard you speak French before…" He tried to reassure her but Katrina just shrugged.

"Well you just heard about every French swearword in the book." She replied bitterly.

"What were you fighting about?" Tommy put his arms around her waist again, resuming their earlier position.

"You." She replied miserably. "My mom just realized that we sleep together and now she's convinced that I'll go to hell."

"Go to _hell_?" he asked, "d'you really believe in all that?"

Katrina paused, "I try not to think about it… I used to, was terrified of hell when I was younger… but now, I don't know." Katrina's eyes flickered to his for a moment, before fixing on the floor.

"Do you think what we're doing is wrong?" Tommy asked, waiting apprehensively for an answer.

"I _know_ it is. I _know_ I shouldn't, but I like you too much to stop. I just can't think of being with you as really being a sin…" There was a smile in her voice now. "Although what we did last night was _pretty _sinful_._"

Tommy kissed her then, holding her close. Knowing that Katrina felt guilty about what they did together roused some strange emotion in him. Was it jealousy? Was it possessiveness? He didn't know, what he did know was that it hurt, deeply, knowing that he might loose her like this. Words not being Tommy's strong point he knew that he could never hope to put into words how he was feeling, what he did with his body would have to be enough.

Half an hour later Tommy wandered downstairs to his own flat; the place was getting a bit neglected, glasses piling up in the sink and the sheets needed changing. He supposed that his military past still required him to keep a certain standard of neatness around him at all times. He liked things to be orderly and clean, in fact the more complicated his life got the more he tended to focus on that.

A psychiatrist would likely tell him he had a problem, needed to loosen up but he was set in his ways now. Anyway, cleaning things up was a good outlet for his energy, it would help him work off some of the emotion of the morning in a productive way. Tommy thought that should be good enough for any psychiatrist and set to rolling up the sleeves of his reclaimed sweater and starting to wash up.

The elastic of the sleeves bit slightly into his forearms, he was finally putting on some real muscle, filling out as he had been before Sparta. He'd got his appetite back, training with Frank was intense, almost more so than training with Pop. They had different styles but after loosing to his brother Tommy felt ready to switch things up a little in the cage. The training he was doing now was as much mental as physical, the Frank was tough, but nothing compared to Pop's levels of slave driving. The trainer's real magic lay in how he taught his fighters to think in the cage rather than just rely on instinct as Tommy had for so long, he was getting the hang of it slowly, sparring with men of Jay's size had certainly put his own strength into perspective and forced him to work harder on his technique. His body was definitely changing though and he had a feeling that he was going to come back even stronger than ever.

The phone rang- the landline call meaning it could only be Brendan on the other end as only he had that number. Tommy quickly dried his hands before picking up.

"Bren?" he asked.

"Tommy? Good, I thought you might be out- you never pick up these days."

Tommy smiled, he was never home these days. "Sorry about that, why'd you call?"

"Other than just wanting to talk?" Tommy could hear Bren laughing to himself, "Tess wants to invite you to dinner, says the girls are missing you."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I think she's worried about you not having a home cooked meal in too long." Tommy smiled again, it turned out that Katrina was an excellent cook so Tess needn't be worried.

"That'd be great." He paused, inspiration striking, "D'you know what?"

"What?"

"I want you to meet someone."

"Someone? Who?"

"Umm…" tommy swallowed thickly, "A girl- we're dating… or something."

"oh… a _girl_… well congratulations little brother!"

Tommy snorted, "stop it Bren, we're not gettin' married or anytin' just casual y'know?"

"But you're showing her off to all of _us_? Sounds pretty casual." Tommy barked a laugh at his brother's sarcasm.

They agreed that Brendan would pick them up a five; it was a long drive out to Monroeville and even longer if you had to take the bus. Tommy vowed in return that he would sort out getting a car in the near future and get the broken down "piece of trash" he'd driven to Brendan's house in off his brother's lawn.

The car had broken down immediately after he turned off the engine, Brendan's house was the first stop he'd made after leaving Camp George, driving through the night and all day to cross the country back to his only family.

Tommy couldn't actually remember much about the trip- too strung out on the pain meds and anxiety pills that the military doctors made him take. The whole memory was blurred and jittery as though filmed on a shaky hand-camera. It was sort of a relief when the ache in his shoulder came back, meaning that the drugs were wearing off. Unfortunately as his body cleared its self of the narcotics, the fog of pain, both physical and mental almost sent him right off the road. It was a miracle he didn't crash really- maybe he should've taken Katrina up on her offer of going to church.

The image of her sprinting out the door stuck in his mind as he dried the last of the dishes in the sink. St. Paul's cathedral in down town Pittsburgh was apparently a very "big deal" as far as churches went so Katrina was obliged to dress up a little. Tommy had time to drink two whole cups of coffee as she dashed around the apartment frantically pulling out clothes and doing up her hair. He had never seen her in anything so nice- a pretty blue dress and heels that made her higher than his shoulder for the first time. He liked the heels- it made it easier to bend down and kiss her. Although it was nice to see his girl all dressed up, in a way it made her guilt about their relationship hurt all the more. The church was never something that particularly called to him, especially after the death of his mother Tommy had felt abandoned with God. Angry with him for letting his mother die in agony and for turning him into an orphan at the age of seventeen.

His mother's faith had scared him near the end, the gleam in her eyes as she told him about heaven. It wasn't healthy he decided, especially Katrina's fear of hell, she'd told him she didn't really believe in that anymore but he'd seen the dread in her eyes. He'd have to talk to her about that.

* * *

Tommy spent the rest of the day exercising. He went on a long run using the route he used to go on with Pop who'd drive alongside him hollering encouragement. It really wasn't the same without the old man there but he made it around just the same, all ten miles of it. After that it was weights at Frank's gym- the place was open on Sundays really just for the professionals and to give Frank a chance to keep up with the paperwork.

Tommy had a quick shower before changing into a fresh pair of sweats and a vest. The place was mostly empty- even the pro fighters had to go home sometime, even if just to keep their wives and girlfriends happy. Tommy wondered what it would be like between him and Katrina when he got back into the cage again, if even lasted that long. When they were together Tommy never thought about the possibility that things wouldn't work out in the long run. When he was with her he never had any doubts, in fact he rarely worried about anything when she was around it was like being invincible. It was a different story though when they were apart though. Tommy couldn't stop himself from thinking of all the ways that things could go wrong, all the ways he might drive her away; his PTSD, the nightmares, his crazy pre-fight training schedule, and his nasty temper which she'd already had to deal with. He was completely out of his depth with this, fucking inexperienced.

"Tommy?"

He whipped around at the sound of someone calling his name. It was Frank, come out of his office and grinning like a cat with the cream.

"What's up with you?" asked Tommy, turning to face him fully.

"Good news." Smiled Frank, "I got you a fight- here in Pittsburgh in three weeks."

"Who against?" asked Tommy, the news not really sinking in.

"Forrest Griffin, the brawler from Georgia." Frank was evidently very pleased with himself.

Tommy felt a smile break out over his face, "Thanks man, really means a lot y'know. Three weeks y'say?"

"Three weeks my man." Answered Frank, slapping Tommy on the back, "you'll be ready."

"I sure will." With a final nod, Tommy strode purposefully to the weights. Forrest Griffin wouldn't know what'd hit him.

A/N

well this was a **long time** coming- I hope you guys haven't completely given up on me! I'm not really sure about the _faith_ aspect of this chapter you'll have to tell me where you guys stand on that but given the direction I'm thinking of going with this story I think a little background on Katrina's family and beliefs is necessary. (idk?) I'm not entirely sure about the characterization with this chapter- I know that usually if Tommy is upset about something then that generally comes out as anger but I don't really see them having a fight about their issues just yet… Also a note about the French, I didn't translate it basically because this chapter is from Tommy's point of view and he doesn't understand a word it. When its Katrina's view then I'll translate and all will become clear!

Heads up- if anyone has ideas for scenes you would like to see between the lovebirds, now is the time to make your requests- I'm in serious need of inspiration for the coming chapters before the sh*t hits the fan!

Thanks again for everyone who's stuck with this story and put it on favorite or story alert and an _extra-special_ thank you for all you beautiful reviewers, I really couldn't write this without your help and support! xxxx


	18. Chapter 18

Hey guys, just wanted a quick head's up before this chapter starts- I think I might have given people the wrong idea with my last A/N, this is not going to be a "religious themed" story, so no worries about that ok? I'm still debating starting over with that chapter but it's done now so…. Onwards and upwards! Also all your suggestions as to what should happen next have been great and really gotten me back on track!

**Chapter 18**

_February 19th_

Katrina stood joined the steady stream of people exiting the church as behind them the last bars of _Abide With Me_ rumbled from the organ. As she left the building shrugging on her jacket, the cold wind whistled around her, throwing her long hair into disarray, sticking it to her lip-gloss.

Katrina dug around in her handbag for her cell phone. One text from Tommy flashed up on the screen and she felt herself smile as she opened it. This smile quickly turned faded as she read- he wanted her to meet his brother? Katrina didn't know much about the Conlon family history; Tommy wasn't exactly loquacious and didn't like to talk about the past. She did know however that he and his brother were very close, the very first place he'd gone after getting out of the Marines. Katrina felt herself getting apprehensive; this was all going a little fast wasn't it? Given Tommy's relationship with his father meeting Brendan was kind of like going home to his folks.

She blew out a long breath into the cold air and watched it curl away like smoke. _It'll be fine,_ she tried to reassure herself_, they're lovely people and you'll all get along perfectly._

She didn't give her insecurities time to get the best of her but texted back her answer immediately.

She looked at her phone again, one missed call from her mother. She'd save that conversation for later, still a bit too angry to be grown up about the situation. Katrina's child hood, isolated on the tiny islands of Maine had been molded and defined by her mother's break with her own family.

As an adult Katrina could see how a scared, single seventeen-year-old mother would welcome the small tight-knit community of North Haven. She could see how the church became her backbone and its teachings her guidance. Nevertheless, there came a time when you had to take off the training wheels. _You only live once right? _ Katrina looked up at the sky as though it might give her some sign, the sun was starting to break through the lowering clouds. _That's good enough for me_ she thought.

Katrina was made sure to be ready long before six when Tommy's brother was due to pick them up. Her apartment was littered with clothes that she'd tried on and discarded.

Knowing Tommy she doubted that this would be any sort of fancy affair but she wanted desperately to make a good impression. After all, she thought, you only get to make a first impression.

She settled on wearing her hair down as she'd just been to the hairdresser the other day and it was looking reasonable for once. She'd just decided on a pair of flats to go with that white top she'd worn for her first date with Tommy when the doorbell rang.

It was Tommy; looking slightly tense Katrina realized that this must be nerve-wracking for him too.

"Hey, come on in." she said.

He pressed his lips to her cheek as he passed her, he'd shaved, and Katrina could smell the Imperial Lather soap he always used, clean and fresh. She caught his hand to stop him moving away and kissed him properly.

"I'm sorry about this morning." She whispered between kisses.

"S'okay." He replied, his voice more felt than heard.

"No, I was being… weird, I'm sorry."

Tommy's eyes flickered up to meet hers; he was frowning slightly as he always did when he was thinking about what to say. Then he shrugged, expression clearing.

"No need to apologize."

The pair of them moved against the couch, the back of Katrina's knees hit the seat and she almost collapsed into it. Tommy was absentmindedly rubbing the nape of her neck with one callused hand and she leaded into him in silent encouragement. Outside a car horn sounded, catching Katrina's attention.

"Time to go" Katrina said, checking her watch.

It wasn't until Tommy squeezed her hand that she realized that they'd been shaking.

"Nervous?" he asked with a wry smile.

Katrina nodded, and felt rather than heard his quiet laughter rumbling through the both of them.

"Don't be."

Brendan's house was a real reflection of the man himself Katrina thought to herself as they arrived.

It had been a quiet drive, eager to beat the traffic they hadn't stopped for proper introductions just hopped in and got on the highway. Brendan was different to his brother in looks, much fairer and less angular, a kind and open face, perfect for a kind and open-hearted man.

The house was inviting, all caramel woods, and warm colors. There were kid's toys in the front yard and finger paintings in picture frames along side the family pictures. Before she'd had time to take in much else a pretty blonde woman who could only be Tess appeared, beaming at the end of the hallway.

"Tommy, it's great to see you!" she rushed up and hugged Tommy who reciprocated with a smile.

"So you must be the girl Tommy wanted us to meet huh?" asked Tess turning to her.

Katrina smiled a little, feeling shy, "Yeah, I'm Katrina, its lovely to meet you- you have a really great house here."

Tess beamed again, "Well its lovely to meet you too Katrina- can I call you Katy?"

"Yeah sure, everyone does." She found herself warming quickly to Tess's unstoppable charm.

"Great, come on in out of the cold and we'll introduce you to the girls."

The girls it turned out didn't need any introducing as next moment two tiny creatures came sprinting down the hallway with twin cries of "Daddy!" and "Uncle Tommy!" They threw themselves on their uncle and Katrina was treated to the sight of Tommy well out of his depth. He hoisted both girls up into his arms and gave them a hug.

"How've my favorite girls been huh?" he asked them.

"We've been good!" the older one replied, pigtails askew.

"Glad to hear it." Tommy chuckled before setting them down and crouching down so that he didn't tower over then.

"I want you to meet my friend, Katy."

Katrina blushed at being introduced and held out a hand for them to shake.

"I'm Emily," the older girl said, shaking Katina's hands solemnly.

"And I'm Rosie, my birthday is next week." Said the smaller girl, her words slightly muffled by the thumb in her mouth.

"Nice to meet you Emily and you too Rosie, have you thought about what you want for your birthday?"

Rosie shook her head, eyes wide; "Daddy says it's a surprise so _I_ hope it's a puppy." She smiled, showing astoundingly grapy teeth.

"I'll keep my fingers crossed for you." Katrina promised, both girls giggled happily and darted away into the sitting room.

"They're sweet." Katrina said.

"Yeah, they're great." Smiled Brendan, leading everyone into the family room where the Emily hurriedly switched the TV from a re-run of Mean Girls back to the game before taking her little sister's hand and scampering off for the play room.

"You're good with them." Murmured Tommy, his hands finding that favorite spot on Katrina's waist as he passed behind her.

"Thanks," she whispered back.

The two brothers settled themselves on the couch to watch the pre-game talks and match analysis as Tess led Katrina into the kitchen across the hall. Pouring Katrina a large glass of white wine she turned to her in a conspiratorial manor.

"So," Tess began, "tell me _all_ about yourself."

"Umm," Katrina flushed again, not knowing what to say, "I dance with the Pittsburgh ballet company…"

Tess interrupted her, "For real?"

"Yeah, for real."

"Wow, a real live ballerina," Tess laughed and Katrina knew that they would be friends, "what about you and Tommy?"

Katrina took a sip of her wine before answering, "I met him the day he moved in, just bumped into each other… I guess one thing just lead to another?."

"That's sweet" said Tess, topping up their wine glasses, Katrina could feel the alcohol bringing a flush to her cheeks. "He must like you a lot to bring out all the way out here."

Katrina giggled self-consciously, "Well I don't know about that, but I do like him."

"Good." Said Tess, "I haven't know Brendan's brother a long time and lord knows we didn't meet under the best of circumstances but if _anyone_ deserves a happily ever after then it's got to be Tommy."

Katrina took a gulp of wine, "well I'll have to see what we can do about that." She changed the subject, curious suddenly, "so tell me all about you, did I really see a prom picture of you and Brendan on the mantelpiece?"

Tess settled herself on the kitchen counter top and regaled Katrina with the highly amusing story of her and Brendan's first date at a McDonalds down town. Only half way though she leapt up with a curse and sprinted to the oven only to wrench it open and be engulfed suddenly in a cloud of smoke.

"Do you want some help?" Katrina asked.

"Sure!" Replied Tess from somewhere in the cloud, she managed to rescue a slightly burnt pie from the oven before turning on the smoke extractor above the range.

Katrina busied herself locating knives, forks, and plates from the cupboards. She was surprised at how clean the place was considering that they had two children; she didn't think that her own house had ever been a tenth this orderly when she was growing up.

Katrina helped Tess and the girls set the table; Tess gave the girls the cutlery and then had to go around after them fixing when they put the knives and forks the wrong way around.

"Its still kind of early to eat don't you think?" asked Katrina, looking at the clock on the wall.

"We'll wait until the game is over I think." Replied Tess, motioning to the two men on the couch both waving their arms and shouting at a perceived injustice by the umpire.

"Don't worry," smiled Tess, "the boys have to do the washing up."

"_Oh_ I see how this household works, I like your thinking Tess."

With the food safely in a warming oven and the places set Tess was free to go back to her story about her first date from hell with Brendan but instead she topped up Katrina's glass, ignoring her protestations and turned to her with a very serious expression.

"So Katy, you know that Tommy's a fighter don't you?"

Katrina nodded, not knowing where Tess was going with this.

"And you're _okay_ with that, because I know when Brendan was fighting it really tore me apart to see that."

"Brendan is a fighter?" asked Katrina, looking over at the man on the couch in surprise. Brendan was a big guy for sure but he seemed far to gentle to make a living with his fists.

"Was a fighter… Tommy didn't tell you?" Tess's eyebrows disappeared into her fringe.

"Tell me what?" asked Katrina, curiosity piqued.

"Yeah tell her what?" Came a deep voice from the doorway, it was Tommy leaning on the frame. "Brendan said there's beers in the fridge… "

"Oh, right yeah there is," Tess stepped aside, "I was just talking about you and Brendan in the Sparta finals. You guys didn't talk about that yet?"

Tommy fixed her with an inscrutable look. "Nope we didn't." Then he sloped off, Katrina could read the defensiveness in his posture, could see that his walls were already springing back up.

"Shoot," said Tess.

Katrina could only nod in agreement. Neither woman brought up Sparta again in their conversation as the football match slowly wound up to it's conclusion, the Pittsburgh Steelers wining the day.

Dinner started off relaxed, the positive outcome of the football match giving them all lots to talk about around the table and the questions of the little girls putting them all in fits of laughter. Katrina was sitting in between Tommy and Emily, who had taken pride of place at the end of the table. She could see Tommy smiling and laughing along with the others but could also feel the tension radiating off him.

Eventually the conversation turned to work, Brendan told them a little about his time as a physics teacher, he'd been promoted to the head of department at Monroeville High. Katrina could hear the pride in his voice as he talked about the students who were making so much progress before their mid-terms. It was nice, she thought, that a man could have such a vocation that even after becoming as rich as Croesus he still devotes himself to the day job.

Tess fired a few questions at her about her life as a dancer and she was happy to oblige, sugar coating it shamelessly for the benefit of Emily and Rosie who were listening with rapt attention.

"So you're like Angelina Ballerina?" asked Rosie, eyes like saucers.

"Yes just like that."

"Do you think I could be a ballerina?" asked Emily, gazing up at Katrina with big blue eyes.

"Of course you can doll, maybe you could come and see where I work someday?" She glanced at Brendan and Tess to see if that would be alright. They smiled and Emily nodded enthusiastically.

After desert, a slightly singed pumpkin pie, Tess put the kids to bed and Brendan opened another bottle of wine. The conversation fell into a lull and Katrina could feel Tommy's incessant need to fidget starting to get the better of him. His leg was tapping under the table at increasing speed. She put her hand on his knee.

"So are you getting pumped up for your first fight then Tommy?" asked Brendan.

Katrina choked slightly on a sip of wine and Tommy patted her hastily on the back.

"Yeah, I guess, I only found out today…"

Katrina turned to Tommy, finally able to breathe. "You're fighting again? You didn't say!"

"Yeah… found out this mornin'. Forrest Griffin." He replied somewhat gruffly. Under the table Tommy's leg started to bounce again.

"Griffin?" Brendan asked, eyebrows raised, "the ex-sheriff?"

"Yep. In three weeks."

_Three weeks?_ Katrina thought.

"That's really soon." Said Brendan, voicing what Katrina was thinking.

"I s'pose so. Fight's in Pittsburgh so I don't have to travel for this one."

"You ever seen Tommy fight?" asked Brendan to Katrina who was glad of the escape from her thoughts.

"Not yet but I guess I will be soon."

"You never got curious and Googled him?" said Brendan with a wry smile. Katrina felt Tommy up tense slightly next to her.

"Nope." The conversation lapsed again. Katrina was starting to feel really awkward; she could tell that Tommy didn't want to talk about his past fights so she let silence fall.

Tess broke it, ever polite and seemingly un-phased by Tommy glowering over the table at her husband.

"How's about you guys get to cleaning up while Katy and I have more girl-time." She cast a slightly forced smile in Brendan's direction. Before leading a helpless Katrina into the family room.

From the room behind them they could hear the brothers arguing in terse under-tones, too quietly for Katrina to make out what they were saying. Not that she was eaves dropping or anything.

Tess was chatting a mile a minute, seemingly her defense mechanism whenever things got awkward. Katrina nodded and smiled, not really taking in what she was saying. After about twenty minutes of watching home movies of the little girl's last school-play, a shadow fell across the doorway. Again it was Tommy, scowl lifted slightly. He looked rueful if anything and Katrina hoped that he and Brenan's argument had managed to sort it's self out.

"We've gotta go if we're gonna get the last bus into town." He said gruffly, nodding at Katrina who felt half-relieved and half sad to go.

They said their goodbyes quickly before slipping into the freezing night air. They walked in silence for a few minutes, breath clouding in front of them like unfilled speech bubbles. They'd almost reached the bus stop when Tommy's hand found hers and squeezed it tight. She knew that tonight was not a night for questions, the argument was still too fresh and painful, but with his hand in hers she knew that they could bridge the gap.

I love reviews like a fat kid loves cake- and I should know _all_ about that! xx


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

_February 24th_

Tommy knew something was up when he woke excruciatingly early on a dim Saturday morning to find Katrina pacing up and down the length of her tiny bedroom. He sat up but she didn't seem to notice, just made another trip around the room, running her hands through her hair and muttering indistinctly to herself. Tommy watched her for a moment before rising to meet her. She stopped short, startled.

"Did I wake you up?" Katrina asked.

Tommy shook his head, "come back to bed?"

"I can't sleep." She said as Tommy took her hand and drew her back under the blankets. It was still bitterly cold in the apartment and Tommy jumped as Katrina's freezing feet made contact with his legs.

"Sorry." She whispered.

"S'okay… what's goin' on?" Tommy knew that something had to be wrong to get Katrina out of bed early on the weekend.

Katrina groaned quietly, eyes closed as though blocking out some intense pain. "The show starts today… _great_…" She brought her hands up to cover her face before peeking out at him.

Comprehension dawning, Tommy understood what she was talking about, first night of Snow White, of course. Then a thought came to him and he frowned at her.

"You didn't get me a ticket." He tried not to sound accusatory but he'd already asked Frank about inviting her to see him fight against Forrest Griffin in two weeks time.

To his surprise Katrina smiled, "_actually_ I did, but not for tonight, it's bad luck."

"Bad luck. Really?" Tommy could feel the edges of his mouth curl into a smile at her superstition.

"Don't you dare laugh! I'm stressed out enough already." she tried to smack him but he caught her hand, so small in his that he could fold his fingers right over hers.

"Well let's see what I can do about that then." Tommy mumbled, stealing a kiss. He heard Katrina's intake of breath as his lips began to travel lower, down her neck, shoulders, cleavage, stomach… by the time he was finished she wouldn't even remember her own name.

Tommy stayed awake staring into the darkness; he'd been sleeping better than usual lately. He attributed it to all the late-night "workouts" he'd been having between the sheets.

All the same, on the nights he slept alone he still woke to the sounds of screams and gunfire. Occasionally the nightmares were so vivid that he swore he could feel the sand creeping into the crevasses of his body armor and the heat of the day beating down on him. After those dreams he'd wake and have to force himself to lie still and wait until his body stopped shaking. The muscles so tense it was painful, the nightmares still clawing at his consciousness. Trapped in the darkness with only his rising panic for company, it was on those nights that he wished he hadn't chucked all his Oxycodone down Brendan's sink.

Katrina shifted, frowning in her sleep. Tommy hesitated for a moment before starting to rub wide, slow circles on her back with the hand that wasn't tangled up in her hair. She sighed softly, stretching like a cat. Tommy took a deep breath; if she kept that up he'd need a cold shower soon. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, pulling her closer, their limbs entangling. Even after three weeks Tommy was still surprised by how her tiny body could be so fragile looking but so wonderfully strong. He was still afraid of hurting her when they were together of crushing her or holding her too tightly.

When the sun came up they both rose and Tommy started to make breakfast. He usually had bacon and eggs to start off the day, his mother had taught him to cook that much at least. It was quiet in the kitchen; Katrina was slumped on one of the stools, nursing a cup of the blackest, sweetest coffee. Usually, Tommy reflected, she was the chatty one, taking him out of his moods and getting him to open up.

The silence stretched out with only the sounds of cooking in the background, not a comfortable silence, but the kind that needs to be filled. Katrina was the expert at this and as Tommy cast about for something to say, he drew a blank.

"Tommy," he turned quickly from to stove to look at her.

"Yeah?"

Katrina looked at him over the rim of her coffee cup, from the way her knuckles had turned white around the handle, Tommy could see that she was nervous about something.

"What?" he asked.

"Last weekend, when we went to your brother's house… what was that all about?"

Tommy had wondered when she was going to ask this but still hadn't come up with a good answer. The truth, unbidden, sprang to the forefront of his mind.

"You wanna to know what happened at Sparta?"

Katrina nodded.

It took Tommy a moment to find the right words, rubbing both hands through his hair distractedly. "Brendan and I were in Sparta together, Frank was his trainer back then and I was just out of the Marines."

He paused, trying to fit the facts together in his mind, the story came out haltingly, and Tommy kept glancing up at Katrina to see if she understood but every time he looked her dark eyes were still trained on him. He started with deserting his unit, picking up where they'd left off last time, in the desert. He told her about going to Colt's gym and beating Mad Dog, about training with his father, staying in his childhood bedroom. He told her about seeing the poster for Sparta and seeing the adverts on TV, he told her about his promise to look after Pilar and her kids after Manny died. He had to pause then, voice threatening to break. He took a deep breath, Katrina's gaze never left his face. He continued, describing in a low voice how Brendan had beaten him in the final of Sparta, dislocating his shoulder. He was about to tell her about Brendan's own troubles when Katrina interrupted him.

"_Brendan_ put you in the hospital?" she asked, aghast.

Tommy nodded, then shrugged, "Don't matter now, like I said, we're on good terms now and he had his own reasons."

"I'd hate to see what _bad_ terms is."

Tommy smiled slightly, coming over to sit opposite her, he put his hands over hers, still gripping the coffee cup tightly.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier… but you can see why I didn't want you to know right?"

She nodded, turning her hands over so that she could lace her fingers though his. "It's alright… as long as you're alright"

Tommy's heart seemed to constrict in his chest, almost painfully. He was wondering whether to lean over and kiss her when a strong burning smell reached them.

"Shit!" he swore, leaping up and throwing a pan-full of burning eggs and bacon into the sink.

Katrina didn't stop laughing at him for the next ten whole minutes whilst Tommy cleaned her pan and scrubbed the burned fat off of her stovetop.

"You'd make quite the house husband." She remarked as Tommy threw himself down into the seat opposite her.

He shrugged, a slight smile quirking his lips, "old habits."

"Do you want some cereal or something? It's in the bottom cupboard there."

Tommy shook his head, "Don't worry about it, I should probably be off anyway."

Katrina nodded, checking her watch, Tommy saw her cheeks blanch. "Sugar."

"What?" he asked, helping himself absently to the last of her coffee.

In answer Katrina jumped up and started pulling clothes out of the dresser. She mumbled something incoherently about being late.

Tommy gathered his apartment keys off the bench and let her hustle him to the door, helping her pull a t-shirt over her head as they went. He brushed her hair away from her eyes as they stood facing each other from opposite sides of the doorway.

As usual when he knew he should say something, Tommy couldn't come up with the words, he trusted his gut instead. Her skin was gorgeously soft under his hands as he kissed her, gently, urgently, trying to show her how much this morning had meant to him. Katrina's finger tangled in his hair, tracing lines across the nape of his neck, melting into him as she always did. All too soon they broke apart, the sound of their breathing filling the space between them.

"Good luck tonight darlin'."

"Thanks, don't wait up for me, I'll be out late." she whispered.

And with that they parted ways.

_February 25th_

It was dark when Tommy heard a sharp rap on the door and his head jerked up from where he'd been almost asleep on the couch in front of a late-night darts tournament. He heaved himself up, feeling the cramp in his back flare and burn. The person knocked again. Tommy felt himself getting irritated, what the fuck was so important at this time of night?

He sighed and unlocked the door, throwing it open. On the other side was Katrina, leaning against the doorframe as though it was the one thing stopping her from sinking to the floor. She was soaking wet from the rain and the tiny red dress she was wearing clung to every inch of her body.

"Hey!" she said brightly, smiling at him with wine-red lips to match the dress.

Tommy raised his eyebrows.

"Hey."

"So… sorry to turn up this late but-" she sighed, "the lift's broken and three floors is more than I can handle."

He had to crack a smile at that, three in the morning or not.

"So, can I come in?" she asked, attempting another winning smile.

"Course." As it turned out he practically had to carry her to the couch, as Katrina's co-ordination was not up to the challenge of six-inch heels. She giggled, flopping down unceremoniously.

"How was it?" he asked, helping her take her shoes off.

"Oh my god… amazing… I barely remember any of it." She giggled again and Tommy noticed that she was shivering badly.

"Cold?"

"Yeah, I had to walk the last few blocks." She tried to wipe away some of the makeup that had smudged under her eyes.

Tommy frowned, "By yourself?"

She nodded, "I'm a big girl Tommy."

This didn't sit well with Tommy, he didn't like to think of her out in the dark alone in this part of town, but he realized that it was a conversation for another time, when she wasn't plastered.

"How 'bout I run you a bath?" he asked as her shivering worsened. She nodded distractedly, slipping off her jacket and starting to peel off her tights.

Tommy stood and retreated to the bathroom, he realized his t-shirt was soaking wet from carrying Katrina and covered in her makeup. He stripped it off adding it to a pile of dirty clothes that he needed to take to the launderette.

When he returned from the bathroom he found Katrina curled up on his couch in only her bra and pants, she'd pulled a blanket half over herself and seemed to be asleep, her chest rising and falling gently. The dress, if you could call it that, and jacket were on the floor along with her soaking wet tights. Tommy wondered for a moment if it was all right to check out a drunk and passed out girl if she was your girlfriend. He shook that thought out of his head and tried to wake her.

"Katy come on, get up." He shook her gently.

She groaned, frowning, "Fuck off."

Tommy let out an exasperated sigh, "come on Katy time to get in the bath."

"I'm asleep." She mumbled, rolling over

"Come on," Tommy scooped Katrina up into his arms, shuddering slightly as her freezing skin came into contact with his own. The sensation was short lived however, steam had filled the bathroom turning it into a sauna.

Tommy deposited Katrina on the edge of the bath, crouching down so they were at eye level.

"You alright?" he asked.

She nodded, "fine, just a bit dizzy is all." When she stated to remove her bra Tommy stood up, Katrina was strictly a lights-off girl.

"Do you want me to go?" he asked.

Katrina looked up at him, a wicked smile playing across her lips. "Come in with me."

"What?"

"Come on, there's space for us both."

She turned and dropping her knickers, faced him with such an uncharacteristic lack of shyness that it almost made _him_ blush.

"Alright." He agreed, stripping off with a grin.

Katrina turned over in the water with a splash that went all over the floor. They were pressed together now, front to front. Tommy automatically wound his arms around her, running them up and down her back. He wondered when that had become second nature to him. To reach out and pull someone closer, rather than pushing them away, to let his hands find that spot on her waist she especially liked, he didn't know nor did he much care. The here and now was much more important and here and now they were tangled together in Tommy's bathtub, soap slicking their skins and clouding the water in one of the most peaceful moments of Tommy's life. Katrina ran her fingers in a slow pattern over the tribal tattoo on his forearm and shoulder, leaving a trail of goose bumps that even the warm water couldn't take away. She sighed, breaking the rhythm of their slow, shared breathing, looking up at him.

Even now her eyes were slightly unfocussed, glazed. In a way though, Tommy felt as though he was seeing her more clearly, almost for the first time. Her defenses were finally down, the walls that she'd built were being shed as suddenly as the clothes that lay discarded across the floor.

Katrina smiled, and Tommy felt his chest constrict just as it had that morning, as though someone had squeezed his heart with their bare hands.

Without thinking about it he hoisted her up the last few necessary inches and kissed her full on the lips. She wound her arms around his neck, their bodies flush together sending a heat wave of lust straight down into the pit of his stomach.

_I love you._

The words flashed through Tommy's brain like lightning, searing everything in its path. Tommy kissed Katrina again, occupying his lips before he said something stupid.

A/n- So happy Christmas and New Years guys, so sorry that this update took forever! My life has been under some serious renovation, moving countries and getting ready for uni but hopefully this chapter will go down well and I'll get on with the next one! Tell me what you think xoxo


	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: I own nothing

**Chapter 20**

_February 25th_

Katrina woke the next morning to a pounding headache. Last night the two of them must have found their way up the stairs and into Tommy's bed, the sheets were tangled around her legs. She sat up, wincing, her stomach churning. Tommy was fast asleep beside her, sprawled on his back, taking up most of the mattress as usual. With a start she realized that they were both stark naked, this was hardly a rarity for Tommy, who seemed to shed clothes like leaves in the autumn, she on the other hand had never slept naked in her life.

The memories of the previous night started to play through her mind, strangely distorted as though a carnival mirror. Things started out relatively tame, after the show there had been a cocktail party to commemorate the occasion. Katrina slipped on her now ruined red dress and heels straight after the last act, leaving on her stage makeup for dramatic effect. She had vague memories of speeches and donations being made and the polite applause of well-heeled society ladies. Things hadn't really got going until Vlad swept them all out the door to go clubbing at midnight. Already over the top on two glasses of champagne and still buzzing with adrenaline, Katrina had allowed herself to be hustled into a taxi.

She checked her wrists, the bath water had smudged the stamps from the clubs they went into, smearing the words and pictures, and turning her arms and hands into an inky mess.

Things had really started to blur after the third round of shots, she remembered seeing Mark making eyes at the handsome bartender and being sent a cosmopolitan by some men in suits down the bar. The strobe lights and thumping bass of the last place they went into had started to make her feel dizzy, the dance floor tilting at strange angles. Katrina remembered saying a quick goodbye to Sonja and the others before trekking up Fifth Avenue in her heels. A walk in the cold might have been sobering had it not been for the whiskey and sodas that were going two for one. A blush crept up her cheeks as she remembered turning up at Tommy's apartment at three in the morning, undressing in front of him, she'd been bold and strangely shameless, pulling him into the bath with her, running her hands over his chest… it wasn't only her face that was burning now.

She slid out of bed, pulling on one of Tommy's discarded gym t-shirts as she went, it smelled of him, which was strangely comforting. Tommy stirred but didn't wake as her weight left the bed, she let him sleep, pressing a kiss to his stubble-roughened cheek. Katrina stayed with him a moment, watching his chest rise and fall as he breathed. She laced her fingers through his listening to the even rhythm of his heart before rising and tiptoeing down the stairs.

Katrina scooped her handbag, dress, tights, and shoes off the couch before heading for the door. She didn't bother looking for her underwear as it could be anywhere.

It was raining outside as it so often seemed to be in Pittsburgh, a fine mist sifting down from low, grey clouds. The damp reached its fine fingers inside Katrina's jacket as she left for the bus, up the sleeves and down the collar. She shivered, wishing she'd worn a scarf.

The bus stop was empty when she arrived, so she slipped on a pair of headphones and started up some music on her phone to pass the time. It started mid-way through her solo music from last night. Shivering strings giving way to flutes and clarinets with none of the orchestral grandeur of most of the other scenes. She smiled to herself, resisting the urge to begin dancing along incase anyone was watching. She wiggled her toes in time with the music, trying to keep warm as much as anything. She wished now that Tommy had seen her perform, it seemed silly to still ban people from the first night on the strength of a childhood superstition. All the same, it was a relief to have the first night out of the way, _the dry run_ her mother had always called it. Now she could focus on perfecting her solo, fine-tuning before tomorrow night.

The music ended, fading away like dream after waking but Katrina hit the back button and listened to it again, determined to get the music into her head. Easily bored by anything that resembled repetition, her attention soon wandered. She was brought back down to earth by her phone buzzing. It was a text from Tommy.

_K,_

_You left your panties here,_

_I'll be training late tonight _

_Key is under the mat._

_X_

Katrina felt herself warm from the inside out as she saw that he'd signed off with a kiss. This was so completely unlike Tommy, given usually to only the gruffest of endearments. She knew their relationship was progressing quickly, in a few weeks they'd gone from complete strangers to leaving keys under mats. It didn't feel rushed though; waking up next to Tommy felt natural, as though she'd been missing him all her life. Neither of them had talked about where they were going in the long-run, there was no use in looking too far into the future. Anyway, Katrina was having a hard time thinking any further ahead than three weeks when Tommy would get into the cage to fight Forrest Griffin.

The bus came but Katrina got on in a daze. She'd told herself a thousand times not to worry about Tommy's fighting, he was a grown man, able to take care of himself. She could just about manage to hide her feeling when he came to her with bruises on his face and knuckles or welts the size of fists across his ribs. She was proud of him for how hard he trained, the hours he spent in the gym or on the roads running, all the same, she knew it would be a completely different matter when it came to watching him fight.

A few nights ago she'd let curiosity outweigh her better judgment and looked up some of Tommy's fights on YouTube. It was a terrible decision. MMA didn't look anything like boxing or wrestling, the violence of these fights was really something else. She almost spilt her mug of tea down herself when she saw Tommy's dispatching his first opponent with one punch nearly breaking the man's neck.

Other videos showed men whose noses were broken, lips split and bleeding. She knew that when Tommy started fighting again this would happen to him too, he'd be coming home to her with a lot more than a few bruises. Katrina didn't let her mind wander down that road, picturing broken bones and brain injuries, Tommy in the hospital. She knew how strong he was, how determined, that worried her more than anything, he was too hardheaded to back down. She sighed, imagining the worst never did anyone any favors so she settled deeper into her seat and tried to block out any more images of emergency rooms and the sound of broken bones by listening to _Avicii _remixes for the rest of the bus ride, her head bobbing along with the beat.

The main studio was packed by the time Katrina slipped into the back, trying her hardest to be quiet. She joined the barre just behind Danni who shot her a quick smile before getting back to the warm-up. The day passed slowly, technical classes in the morning turning out to be just what she needed to get over the last of her hangover. Everyone was feeling rather flat after the excitement and heart-pumping adrenaline of the first night. Katrina noticed some of the dancers and stagehands in dark glasses and even caught Sonja napping during her break.

When lunch rolled around no one could be bothered schlepping through the rain to the local café or even out to get sandwiches. They huddled around the vending machine and Katrina split a chocolate bar with Sonja. No one talked much, everyone was still pretty washed out after last night's excitement, and even Mark was looking a bit pale.

"Are you going off to practice after?" asked Sonja through a mouth full of chocolate.

"Yeah, don't want to let last night be just a fluke."

There were nods all around and one by one the dancers peeled themselves off the floor to go and practice their various parts. All except for Danni who didn't have a solo, Katrina shot her friend a sympathetic smile but wasn't sure if she saw it.

Katrina wandered back to the locker rooms, still licking chocolate off her fingers. She shouldered her way into the room before digging around in her locker for the CD with her solo music. She found her phone in the search through her handbag and stared at it for a moment, working out a text to send back to Tommy.

_See you tonight_

_X_

_Short and sweet_ she thought with a smile. Maybe she would drag him into the shower this time. She shook her head, thoughts like that would only get her distracted. Fully distracted already, Katrina drifted back into the corridor with her CD and was almost flattened by two dancers coming in the opposite direction. By the blonde hair Katrina recognized one of them as Lauren, as they passed she caught a glimpse of the girl's tear-streaked face.

_What's going on now?_ She wondered. Most people had long since stopped trying to keep up with Lauren's temper tantrums, they were common enough in the studio what with the pressure of the new show weighing down on everyone.

There was a strange silence in the halls as Katrina made her way to a small practice studio on the bottom corridor. Any dancers she passed were speaking in hushed tones, like children listening out for the strains of parents arguing.

She shut the studio's door behind her, flopping onto the floor and tying on her pointe shoes, she had new ones today and so spent a few extra minutes flexing the soles and softening them with a little water. Satisfied at last she stood, stretched and pressed play on the stereo. The quivering string music started up at once and Katrina took a moment to listen.

Fifteen minutes later and Katrina was stretched out on the floor, resting her feet for a moment, she rolled her ankle, feeling the bones move and click. The sound almost but not quite masked the sound of the door being opened, quiet as it was, Katrina heard it and sat up.

Her boss, Daniel Kline sauntered in, his hands in his pockets. Katrina noticed a large gold wristwatch peeking out beneath the cuff of his shirtsleeve. He didn't speak for a long moment but stood looking at her with an oddly intense expression, evaluating and cold. She shivered, standing, wishing suddenly that she had a t-shirt on over her strappy leotard. As she stood, Daniel's trance seemed to break and a wide smile broke out over his tanned face. He shut the door.

* * *

Katrina let herself into Tommy's flat; she only realized that her hands were shaking when it took her three tries to fit the key into the lock. Inside all was dark and quiet. She thought briefly of taking the bottle of whiskey from Tommy's cupboard and pouring four fingers into a glass, thinking better of it, she flopped down on the couch for a moment, hands over her face. She curled up into the arm of the couch, pulling a blanket over herself. The shivering worsened, more out of shock rather than fear or pain. Her upper arms were still throbbing where Daniels's hands had grasped her, dragging her towards him. She swallowed back disgust at the memory of his lips on hers, brief and brutal, tasting of cigarettes. She touched her mouth, feeling a cut lip where he'd bitten down on her. As she curled up further, burying her head in her arms. Shame gnawed at her, what had she been thinking? How had this gotten so far out of control? Her stomach churned, and she let out a low moan, which turned gradually into sobs.

When she next opened her eyes the sky outside was dark, rain lashed against the windows of Tommy's apartment, wind rattling the glass in the frame. She needed to go, before Tommy came back and saw her like this. Quickly she slipped off the couch, wiping her eyes with her sleeve as she did so. She was just collecting her underwear from the counter and turning for the door when she heard a key in the lock. She froze for a moment before mentally shaking herself; she'd just have to brazen it out.

Tommy stepped through the doorway, awkwardly carrying his kit bag in one hand.

"Katy?" he asked, stopping short.

"Hi, I got your text…" she held up the neatly folded bra and pants.

"Oh, right. It was pretty lonely waking up without you this mornin'." Tommy gave her a crooked smile. He started forward, dumping his kit bag on the floor with a thud. Next second he had his arms around her, so strong and sure that Katrina felt tears welling up again, she clung on to his shoulders, resting her head on his chest for a moment, breathing him in.

Tommy's callused hand found her cheek, tipping her head back so he could kiss her and Katrina tensed for a moment before kissing him back. She drew back, flattening her palms on his chest so he wouldn't follow her.

"I should go- I have some things I need to do tonight." She didn't meet his eyes but she could still feel him looking down at her.

"Ah come on Katy," Tommy groaned, drawing her back to him. She relented, moving where he lead, and allowed Tommy to lay her down on the couch. His skin was cold, he'd obviously walked home from the gym, Katrina was vividly aware of every place that their bodies touched. Tommy's hands roamed over her back and felt her own fingers clutch involuntarily at his t-shirt in response. Katrina was struck by the casual intimacy of this moment; there was no rush, no nerves, nothing to prove.

Tommy sat up, pulling her with him so that she was straddling his lap as he lifted her shirt over her head.

"Thought about you today," He said, his deep voice sending vibrations through the both of them. "nearly got knocked out in in the ring 'cus of it."

"Am I that distracting?" Katrina asked.

"Oh yeah," she felt him smile against her skin.

Tommy's hands gently grasped her upper arms and Katrina suddenly gasped in pain as he squeezed down on the bruise that she hadn't realized was starting to form.

"You okay? Did I hurt you?" Tommy looked up at her, blue grey eyes searching her face as though he could find the answer there.

She shook her head, leaning down to kiss him again but Tommy gently pushed her back.

"Katy, what happened to your arm?"

"It's nothing."

"Let me look?" Tommy asked, quietly.

She ducked down so he couldn't see her as well, "It's fine."

"Look at me." He asked, she felt as much as heard him.

"I told you it's nothing." Katrina repeated, she didn't quite know why she was hiding this from him, instinct maybe, a sense of self-preservation.

"Don't look like nothing."

"I fell…" the lie was out of her mouth before she could stop it and she saw immediately the look of disappointment on Tommy's face. He knew of course, knew immediately, and assumed the worst. He let her go, hands dropping to his sides.

"No you didn't." Something flickered behind his eyes.

"Tommy." A moment ago Katrina couldn't wait to get away but now she reached out towards him. Tommy wouldn't look at her, brushing her hand off his arm. She sighed, trying again, "It's nothing Tommy I promise."

He looked at her; eyes more grey than blue "I never took you for a liar Katy."

Katrina couldn't deny it and didn't try to. She moved away, sitting up and jumping off the couch, she heard Tommy stand behind her. For a moment he just stood there, and there was a silence except for the sound of their breathing. She jumped when he touched her shoulder.

"Come on Katy." Something in his voice pulled her up short, she turned but Tommy wasn't looking at her, his stared at the ground between them, his eyes somehow distant.

He looked back, much more directly now and Katrina felt herself blush. She crossed her arms over her chest as though that would hide the mark on her skin.

It didn't.

Soundlessly, Tommy reached over and turned on the lamp beside the sofa, bathing them both in its orange glow as the filament warmed up. She felt Tommy tense and she looked down to see what he was seeing.

There, imprinted just above her elbow, like blue ink on a white page, was the perfect shape of a man's hand.

"Jesus," Tommy breathed, taking her arm and pulling her farther into the circle of light so that he could see. He looked sharply up at her, the rage that often pulsed under his skin now flickering over his face. "Is this what you call nothin'?"

Katrina shook her head, fighting down the urge to cry, standing in the light with Tommy looking at her hurt, for a reason she didn't understand. Shame, unexplained and unwarranted washed over her. She couldn't meet his eyes, not without crying, not without the whole sordid story coming out so she brushed past him, taking her things with her as she went for the door. He didn't try and stop her, move a muscle as she slid out into the corridor.

As Katrina paused to collect herself in the hall she heard the crash of something being thrown across the room in the apartment behind the door.

A/N: What do you think? Dramatique? Romantique? _Crap_tastique? University is starting to make me go slowly crazy and it's only the first week!


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

_February 25__th_

Tommy thought he was going to throw up. The sound of the door slamming echoed through the suddenly empty apartment. All at once the rage he'd tried so hard to control burst its banks and he hurled a glass from the kitchen counter across the room.

"Fuck!" he said out loud, his heat hammering in his ears. "Fuck!"

He stood in the living room, old feelings of helpless rage paralyzing him. All at once it was as though nothing had changed and he was a little boy again watching as his mother rubbing cream into the bruises on her face. He drew a long, shaky breath, he wasn't a kid anymore, there was _something_ he could do about this, and he was going to do it.

He started for the door, shrugging off his jacket as he went and letting it fall to the floor behind him. At times like this he wished he still had Manny to talk to, he was always the expert with women, wouldn't have made such an ass of himself as Tommy already had, and would know just how to fix it. Manny was always the calm one, whilst Tommy was the hothead, sometimes Tommy missed him more than he could stand, what he wouldn't give to be able to pick up the phone now and ask him what to do.

_Never mind that_, he thought, already halfway up the stairs, _you'll come up with something_.

Tommy took the stairs two at a time, his heart thudding against his ribs, palms going clammy with sweat. Several emotions seemed to battle at the forefront of his consciousness; the first- anger. Anger at himself, at his father, at his mother, at his brother, at Katrina for not trusting him with the truth but overwhelmingly at himself.

_What the fuck is wrong with me?_ Tommy asked himself in a rare moment of introspection. No answer was forthcoming, the truth was too mired in a childhood punctuated by arguments and beatings, and an adulthood that wasn't turning out any better. He paused for a moment outside Katrina's door.

_Just go in there and apologize_, he told himself firmly.

He knocked, for a long moment there was no answer, then there was a shuffling of feet.

"Hello?" as voice asked and Tommy could hear the Katrina had been crying.

"It's me." He replied

"What do you want Tommy?" Katrina asked flatly from the other side of the door.

"Can we… talk?" Tommy asked.

"Go away Tommy I don't want to talk."

"I ain't leavin'." He replied, Tommy wasn't about to take no for an answer.

"Seriously Tommy what the fuck is your problem?" Tommy winced, Katrina almost never swore and the words sounded harsher coning out of her mouth.

"Will you let me in, please?" He heard a sigh, then the lock clicked and the door creaked open.

Katrina stood on the other side, gazing warily up at him. Tommy noticed that she had put on a long-sleeved sweater, one of his, it swamped her completely, making her seem absurdly young and small. Tommy found that he couldn't meet her eyes, he took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry." The words hung in between them, filling the small space.

"Okay."

"Okay?" Tommy asked.

"Let's talk."

Katrina retreated into the apartment, laving Tommy to shut the door. She curled up on the couch, arms around her knees. Tommy sat opposite, not too close even though the only thing he wanted to do was put his arms around her and take her to bed.

"Tell me what happened."

"It's complicated." Sighed Katrina.

"No its not, someone hurt you, who was it?"

Katrina buried her face in her knees, long dark hair flopping forward. When she started to speak the words came out muffled.

"The director of PDC- Daniel Kline" she paused, "I don't know how it happened, one moment I was warming up in the studio and we were talking about the first night, the next moment." She shuddered, "he was kissing me… holding me down. I just panicked because I slapped him. He didn't seem to mind though, just sort of laughed and left. I'm sorry."

Tommy got off the couch, and knelt down in front her. "Don't apologize, please don't." He murmured, pulling her to him until they were locked into an awkward sort of embrace. "I shouldn't have been angry at you, I was bein' a jerk." He felt Katrina nod into his shoulder.

When Tommy raised his head he found himself almost nose to nose with Katrina. His eyes drifted down to her lips and he noticed something he hadn't seen before. Under the bright lights of Katrina's apartment, Tommy could see that she had a split lower lip, red and swollen. Tommy felt all of the anger the he'd worked so hard to tame come rushing up to the surface. As though sensing this Katrina drew back away from him.

"He split your lip." Said Tommy quietly, trying hard to control the rage coursing through him. He could barely remember ever being so angry, suddenly Katrina was far too close, he needed to be away from her.

"Tommy?" through the haze of rage, through the ringing in his ears and the strobe light of bad memories, he heard her voice, small and somewhat afraid. Then her hand touched his chest, he hadn't realized that they were standing.

"What?" he asked.

"Calm down… please?"

He looked at her, at her big brown, worried eyes and pale, freckled cheeks and her full pink lips and felt the anger drain out of him as though someone had pulled a plug at his feet.

He pulled her into him, kissing the top of her head, he needed to breathe, to collect himself, to be out of the searchlight of Katrina's gaze for a moment.

That twinge in his chest that he'd started to feel the first time he'd came to suspect the he loved her, it was back again. Stronger now and more painful, a dull hollow, aching in his chest that only she could fill. She was warm and Tommy breathed her in, calm slowly returning, the red tinge clearing from his vision. They stayed like that for a long time, how long Tommy wasn't exactly sure. They didn't talk as he rubbed long slow circles across Katrina's back. Her warmth seeped into him, even though the thick sweater.

Tommy knew he loved her now, he couldn't explain how or why but he didn't trouble himself much with the particulars, only love could be this painful and still be welcomed. As though seeing his future clearly for the first time, he saw the two decisions he could now make.

He could still leave Katrina, tell her he wasn't cut out for relationships, lie to her, push her out of his life, dull this ache in a bottle of whiskey. He would spend all his time at the gym or with the guys. He would train longer hours, take on more shifts in the reception. He wouldn't take so many trips out to see Brendan and Tess at first, they'd want to know what had happened to Katrina, maybe they'd stop asking if he was rude enough. Eventually the pain would subside, as all pain did, like a wound finally scabbing over, blood clotting and skin knitting back together. He _could_ heal if he walked away now, stopped twisting the knife, never kissed her touched her or spoke to her again.

He couldn't do it.

"Tommy?" Katrina's voice brought him back to himself.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you." She rested her head on his chest.

The words that had been going around in Tommy's head for what seemed the longest time, stuck in his throat on the way out. He didn't say anything, couldn't- so he settled for giving her another squeeze.

After a long moment they drew apart and Tommy saw Katrina wiping her eyes with her sleeve when she thought he wasn't looking.

"Want a drink?" she asked, a smile breaking out at last.

He nodded and allowed Katrina to lead him into the tiny kitchen area, settling on a barstool to watch her fill the kettle as he had so many times before.

In a minute they were settled back on the couch, mugs of tea in their hands; Tommy was finally getting used to the herbal stuff. Katrina flicked on the TV and started going through the channels, Tommy wrapped his free arm around her waist and she snuggled into him with a sigh.

"You okay?" he asked after a moment.

"Yeah. Not exactly looking forward to work tomorrow."

"You don't have to go y'know."

"Yeah I do, but" Katrina shrugged, "I'll be okay"

Tommy resisted the urge to disagree, nodding blankly at the TV screen.

"You don't think so?"

Tommy shrugged, "I just don't like to see you go back there… seeing that guy day after day…"

"Its okay babe, I'll be fine."

"I think might come in and see this guy."

"Oh, Tommy no, I don't think so."

"What?"

"Somehow I don't think you'd like jail very much." Tommy saw Katrina's smile out of the corner of his eye.

He shrugged in acknowledgement.

"Probably not." And with that they would both have to be content.

_February 26th_

Tommy was half asleep when he felt Katrina slip out of bed in the morning, the fist fingers of light just starting the inexorable creep around the blinds and into the semi-darkness of her bedroom. He felt the side of his body that she'd been curled against start to cool and heard the muffled sounds of dressing. He allowed himself a moments more sleep before getting up and heading downstairs, pulling on boxers as he went.

Katrina was almost out the door, jacket and scarf on, kit-bag slung over one shoulder.

"Hey." Tommy murmured, kissing her cheek. She wrapped her arms around him, leaning into him for a moment.

"Hey yourself. I'm about to go, are you working late tonight?"

Tommy had to think for a second. "Yeah, I think Frank wants to take all the fighters out on for hill training…"

"Better you then me" Katrina laughed.

Tommy waved one last time as she vanished out of the door a slight twinge of unease in his stomach. He didn't like to think of her going back to work with that man Daniel, not at all. He comforted himself however with the thought that if seeming were to happen, he knew where the man worked. Tommy privately thought he'd hold up fairly well in jail.

Tommy killed time, he went for a run. Pushed him body around the park and over near to where Pop's house was, taking longer than usual. His breath was coming in short sharp gasps by the end of the eight-mile track, burning in his lungs. He left for the gym shortly after eleven, nothing going around in his head except for the thought that he needed to tell Katrina that he loved her and that he had no idea how to do that.

Once at Frank's gym he had bigger concerns, the place was packed with casuals, the type of men who like to relive the glory days of high-school wrestling or semi-pro boxing, the type of men who worked nine to five on offices and spent their lonely or overwrought weekends listing to antiestablishment music from the nineties and trying to regain some semblance of manhood and street-cred. The kind of men, in short that Tommy despised. He tried to play nice, keep the annoyance at their unabashed hero-worship from the surface but on the whole he preferred to avoid them. He gave a cursory wave to Jay and the others over by the free weights before heading in to the changing rooms. Once there he collapsed on a bench, checking first that he a alone; the place was mercifully empty.

He dialed Brendan and thankfully his brother picked up after the second ring.

"Tom?" he heard Brendan's voice, slightly muffled by static.

"Yeah Bren it's me."

"What's up?"

Tommy hesitated for a moment before asking the question that'd been spinning around in his brain for a while now. "Bren, when you were sixteen, how did you know that Tess was the one?"

There was a long pause, the crackle of phone line interference the only sound between the two brothers. "I dunno… I guess" Brendan sounded uncertain, "I couldn't imagine it being anyone else, waking up next to any other girl, making big decisions, buying a house… I picked out the names for our kids y'know?"

"Really?" Tommy snorted, "you were always such a girl…"

"Fuck off." He could here the smile in Brendan's voice.

"Nah, man thanks…"

"Is this about Katrina?"

Tommy nodded for a moment, before realizing that his brother wouldn't be able to hear that in Monroeville. "Yeah… it is."

"Good choice brother."

A/N

Okay so this has been a long time coming and I know that Tommy is moving pretty fast but I feel like he's a bit of an all or nothing kind of guy?

Thoughts?

xxx


End file.
